


Padmé the Jedi

by IntrovertedWife



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Clones, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Reimagining, Slaves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15724299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntrovertedWife/pseuds/IntrovertedWife
Summary: What if Padmé, the mother of Luke & Leia, was a Jedi? This is a reworking of Attack of the Clones with Padmé serving beside Anakin. An enemies to lovers story as Anakin, the slave chosen one, and Padmé, the ex-princess, discover they care for each other more deeply than the order allows.I had to change a lot of the scenes, though I wanted to wind up in the same endpoint the movies did. I also changed some aspects of Phantom Menace but that'll become obvious as the story goes on.





	1. Opening Crawl

Red sand sputtered under the landspeeder, twirling to form a vortex whipping back towards the city they abandoned.

“Anakin,” Master Kenobi leaned over, his voice strained to be heard over the wind and pitiful engines. “Can you see our target?”

Rotating the scopes, Anakin zoomed in on a transport vehicle ripping through the canyon. “Yes Master,” he reported, “1000 meters ahead.”

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan smiled, treating this as if it were a simple training exercise. Anakin wasn’t certain what they wanted on that transport, only that the Council tasked them with stopping it.

“Taking us in,” Kenobi announced as he twisted the wheel down a rocky path, uneven boulders shaking them in their seats. Anakin pursed his lips, wondering why his Master didn’t throw on the stabilizers but he held his tongue. As the landspeeder evened out in the bottom of the canyon, Obi-Wan opened it up.

The rocky cliffs rocketed past, the crosswind threatening to shake their vehicle off its balance if they weren’t careful. “What’s their speed?” his Master called out suddenly.

“Increasing,” Anakin reported. “If we don’t—”

With a twist of his hand, Obi-Wan lit up the boosters, plastering Anakin back into his seat. The transport vehicle looked like it was crawling now, their ship quickly overtaking the lumbering train of scrap metal. Anakin struggled to dig his way up as he caught the flash of scarred grey metal pulling beside them. Whatever was in there couldn’t be having a fun time of it, the balancers shot as the cargo weaved on its pivots. Wouldn’t take more than a nudge to knock it loose.

“Ah, it seems we have help.” Obi-Wan pointed to the right where another landspeeder in bright red fell flush beside them. Anakin cast a glance towards the fellow Jedi robes flapping in the winds.

“Good morning, Kenobi,” a cheerful voice cut over the comm, causing Anakin to frown. He knew that Master Jedi, and while he bore her no ill will, it was the passenger in tow that made him snarl.

“And to you as well, Lan’vass. How do you wish to proceed?”

They were acting as if this was a simple pick up mission, but if his Master thought to defer to the woman and her apprentice… Anakin’s eyes darted over the transport cargo crate, easily two men tall and rocking back and forth in the chase. Quickly, he calculated the distance and stood up in his seat.

“What are you doing?” Kenobi called, but it was too late. With one leap upon the hood of the speeder, and another forward, Anakin launched into the air. “Why must you always be so hasty?”

His Master’s words faded in the desert winds as Anakin plummeted to the metal below. A knee buckled in the landing, but he shook it off, quickly finding purchase and running for the front of the crate. It heaved below him, twisting upon its axis as if it were trying to shake him off. But no such luck. He could feel the turns before they happened, lines of green warning him when to dodge left or right, or when to jump all together.

Making his way with certain steps, Anakin paused at the junction between fully encased engine and locked off crate. The orders were to capture the cargo then the pilot. With a leap through the air, Anakin landed upon what served as the cab. His lightsaber hissed through the desert air, sand igniting when the wind blew it into the stream.

With one hand keeping him steady, Anakin reached down for the jack holding the crate to the engine. His saber cut apart the first of five locks, sparks erupting through the air as the fallen joint chewed into dead sand. Sprays of it splattered up, smacking into Anakin’s face. He twisted to slice apart the second, when the force exploded around him.

Rolling onto his back, Anakin stared dead on at a hooked blade slicing over the top of where his head had been. A laugh rose in his gut, some fool willing to take on a Jedi to protect his stolen cargo. Well, if he had a death wish, who was Anakin to deny him?

Spinning in place, Anakin rose up to his back leg, the lightsaber lashing out and slicing the crude blade in half. Its dangerous end sprung free, bouncing into the canyon rock and shattering into pieces. Anakin lazily swung his saber to split any shrapnel coming back, when he looked up at his attacker.

Hateful eyes burned into a scarred face, bald as a moon with three lines of darkest black inked into the scalp. Anakin’s blood boiled as the memories scoured his brain. How could it be him after all these years?!

“Hoss!” Anakin screamed, drawing his saber straight at the monster’s heart.

For his part, Hoss chuckled, bare arms bulging under a tattered vest. He chucked away the hilt of his sword and unearthed a blaster. “I see I have to deal with a Jedi whelp today.”

He didn’t recognize him? How could he forget after what he did? Anakin sneered, shifting his stance to a purely defensive one as the man prepared to shoot. Before he killed him, Hoss would remember who Anakin was. And he’d pay for every second of what he did. Slowly.

The man lined up a shot, Anakin twisting around to block it, when a blur of robes tumbled in the air and landed legs akimbo onto the cab. His eyes darted over a second, anticipating Obi-Wan, when a groan rose up his chest. A green lightsaber cut through the air, Apprentice Padmé twisting in place. The wind yanked her brown braid through the air like a snake, those cold eyes sizing up the danger.

“Two Jedi whelps,” Hoss said with a shrug, and from his pants he pulled a second blaster. Both fired in harmony, Anakin bouncing his shots off while he assumed Padmé handled hers. She was on her own as far as he was concerned. No one asked her to be here.

Spinning in place, Anakin blew another four blasts away before he planted a foot and moved to kick at Hoss. It should have knocked the blaster away, but the transport under them suddenly flew into another gear. With nothing holding him to the cab’s roof, Anakin bounced free, tumbling backwards in the wind. His body bounced until there was nothing to catch, gravity yanking him towards the churning wheels below. Sand and rusted metal whipped past his face, obscuring his view. His fingers lashed out, clawing to catch himself before he hit the dirt and ten tons of truck crumpled his body.

They wrapped around a pipe barely clinging to this rust bucket, Anakin staring down at his feet dangling mere inches from ground traveling at over a thousand meters per second.

“Are you still alive?” Padmé’s grating voice called.

He groaned, not wanting to give an answer, even as his feet wafted over the rushing sand. “Are you?” was Anakin’s late response. It didn’t sound as if the fight was going well, the girl grunting with each strike as her saber’s source rebounded through the air.

Get up there. Help her. Kill him.

Scrabbling, his feet could find nothing to perch upon, the outside of this cab cursedly smooth. Odd to find on a land vehicle. He could jam his saber through the wall, but it might strike someone they were supposed to capture.

Trust.

Closing his eyes, Anakin sheathed his lightsaber and flattened his free hand to the rocking vehicle. With a deep breath, he let go of his grip on the pipe. Before his body could fall an inch, he pushed all his weight into his bare hand — the force guiding him as it always did. Rolling his wrist, on the tips of his fingers for balance he twisted himself into a full flip, hurling his body high above the cab. Mid-twist, he unsheathed his saber and slashed the ends of Hoss’ blasters clean off. Anakin landed right beside Padmé who nodded at his arrival.

“It’s over. Stand down,” she ordered the monster, but Hoss only chuckled a laugh that haunted Anakin’s nightmares.

“You’re so certain, little girl. That’ll get you killed one day. Korg!” he cried, bashing his foot into the roof. A hatch clanged open. From the shadows emerged a massive Besalisk, nothing but muscle bulging from his four arms as the beady eyes narrowed upon the two Jedi. The slippery weasel snuck in behind the wall of Korg, hiding away inside his cab.

“This isn’t over, Hoss!” Anakin shouted, barely glancing at the man in the way.

Twisting one arm, Korg snaked out a lightning whip. Then another. They hissed and popped, sparks zapping off the metal of the cab below them. The Besalisk dared both Jedi to attack. His lizard-like head spun from Anakin to Padmé, clearly planning to electrocute both.

“If we fight as a team…” Padmé began, when Anakin ran forward. He heard her exasperated sigh rattle above the wind, but ignored it. His lightsaber swung out, ready to slice the head clean off of Korg’s shoulders, when the Besalisk swung his whip. It arced through the sizzling air, coiling up Anakin’s lightsaber and arm. With a yank, Korg sent 10,000 volts racing through Anakin’s body.

Screaming in pain and rage, he tried to tug free of the trap but the electricity wouldn’t let him go. His legs locked in place from the volts, eyes narrowing at the chuckling Besalisk. Throw him. Off the transport. Forget the pain. Forget the burn. Smash his brains against the canyon rock.

Anakin raised his fist, all his concentration narrowing down upon Korg’s footing, when another lashed out to strike the Besalisk in the side. The whip fell off of Anakin’s arm leaving him tumbling to the transport’s roof as Padmé twisted around Korg. She was trying to cut away the whips, but he kept dodging just before she’d manage.

With a perfect leap, Padmé flipped over the top of Korg’s massive head and landed directly behind him. She slashed her lightsaber back, striking against the bodyguard’s armor plating. It melted instantly, liquid metal dripping onto the Besalisk’s foot. Snarling, Korg tried to dance away from his deadly armor.

Which was when patronizing brown eyes stared into Anakin’s. She tipped her head as if he was at fault for the attack. “Can you handle him while I accomplish the mission?”

“Fine,” Anakin snapped back.

Padmé ran for the cargo crate and leapt onto it, leaving him alone with his new friend. Before she dipped down to slash off the locks, she said, “Avoid the whip crossing your lightsaber.”

Groaning at the pedantic lesson, Anakin wrapped both hands around his saber and smiled at the Besalisk. “Well, Korg. Any chance of you slipping back inside and asking your boss to turn himself in?”

A whip lashed for Anakin’s leg. “Thought not,” he laughed, pivoting on his foot to kick straight into Korg’s enormous jaw. It should have worked, on damn near every other species it would have. But one of those extra fists clamped onto Anakin’s ankle and hurled him through the air. _Not again!_ Tipping his lightsaber down, he dug into the metal of the cab. Instead of melting like butter, it held on, barely making a dent through the coating.

_What was this thing?_

“You’ll pay for that, robe boy,” Korg chuckled, two fists clamped together, the punch aiming for Anakin’s skull. Right. He rolled, abandoning his lightsaber inside the roof. A metal crunch broke the rushing winds, a dent left behind where his head had been, both Jedi and Besalisk staring at it in surprise.

“Ooh, I bet your boss won’t be happy about you destroying the resell value,” Anakin taunted.

“You don’t know nothing,” Korg snarled, racing to smash Anakin into the ground.

“Sure I do,” he twisted and pivoted into the air. “I know that whatever you’ve stolen the Jedi Council wants. And I know there’s no chance in a summer on Hoth of you stopping us.”

Korg laughed, both whips extending from his hands. “Your Council don’t know nothing either.” Anakin dodged the first attack, but the second curled around his waist. Pain sizzled clean up his chest, breath fleeing from his lungs as Korg yanked him off his feet. Drawing a disgusting claw over Anakin’s cheek, the Besalisk laughed, “And by the time they do, there won’t be a Council to care.”

“What?” Anakin turned up to the creature, for once curious what he had to say, when a great crash erupted from behind. Both turned to watch Padmé, most of her body trapped in the narrow gap between the cab and cargo, wave her hand.

“I’m at the last one, Anakin. Finish up and get off of there.”

“No!” he shouted.

“What do you mean no? Our orders…”

“You stay with the crate,” he twisted in the whip’s grip, leaving the Besalisk gawping. Even with all the volts at Korg’s disposal ripping through him, Anakin grinned, “Hoss is mine.”

Korg laughed, “What makes you think you’re gonna survive this, Jedi pup?”

Twisting his hand around, Anakin ripped his lightsaber out of its hole and clean into his palm. With a fast, underhand swipe, he sliced off both Korg’s whip and the man’s lower left hand. It landed with a meaty thud onto the cab, tumbling in the rattle until it plummeted off for a scavenger to feast on.

“Call it a hunch,” Anakin smirked, his feet sliding into place. “Now give me Hoss!”

The transport lurched under them, sparks erupting from the cargo crate. Anakin risked a glance back, watching as Padmé scrabbled out from between the crack filling with fire as the last of the locks sundered. Both cargo crate and cab shuddered under their feet, neither wanting to let go even with sand and spark spitting off the fallen locks. A great snap broke through the rushing wind.

“Anakin!” she shouted, about to be left behind with the braking cargo, but he turned away. He had other problems to deal with.

“Where is…?” Anakin began to the Besalisk, when a shadow blotted out the sun. Twisting his head, he watched Padmé jump towards the cab rocketing over the sand. She nearly missed, her hand latching onto the same edge he caught earlier.

_Damn it._ Anakin sheathed his lightsaber and ran to her side, reaching a hand out to grab onto her arm. Lifting with all his strength, he turned to watch Korg scuttle back inside to the safety of the cab. As Padmé got her weight under her, he expected a thank you, maybe an apology for being dead weight, but those brown eyes burned into him.

“What are you doing? We have to get off of this, now!”

“Why?” Anakin chuckled. There was nowhere they could drive this thing that Anakin wouldn’t find them, stop them. Drag them before the Council in chains.

Which was when the cab hit a black platform in the middle of the desert, twisted 90 degrees and rose _into_ the air. Anakin and Padmé grabbed each other, both digging their feet into the bar while flattening to what used to be the cab’s roof.

“Because this is a spaceship!” she shouted, the wind whipping their words away.

Puncturing through the atmosphere, the not-quite-so grounded transport shattered apart the first strata of clouds with two Jedi clinging on the outside. Their cheeks suckered against the metal to combat the forceful winds trying to rip their heads off, Anakin staring at his rival. With her eyes closed tight and her shoulders hunched up to shield her face from the ravaging winds she almost looked…delicate. Someone worth protecting. He reached a hand out, wanting to rub her back in comfort.

Those icy browns popped open and she glared at him, shattering the momentary illusion. Shaking away his foolish thought, Anakin reached higher up the cab, snagging upon an antenna and pulling himself towards the cab hatch.

“What are you doing?!” Padmé cried.

Reaching to his side, Anakin fished up his lightsaber. The blue stream struggled to maintain in these fast winds, but he had faith in it and the force. Flipping it around in his grip, Anakin drove the end into the top of the cab. Liquid metal sputtered out in deadly droplets falling like rain.

“I’m not letting Hoss get away!” Anakin insisted. He met resistance against the land-to-spaceship’s plating and worried his lightsaber back and forth to saw inside. Which was when an arm grabbed onto his ankle.

He glanced down and frowned to find Padmé not only clinging to him, but trying to yank him off. Did she want him dead that badly? “This is idiotic! Our orders…!”

“Mean nothing until that monster is in the ground!”

“You can’t possibly break through that plating before you suffocate, or burn up in the atmosphere!” she nagged him, always planting her brains into any situation whether it was asked for or not.

“I have to try,” Anakin insisted, drawing his lightsaber slowly down the outer crust. Even if he could only chip that away, Hoss’ ship might burn up…along with his body. Sacrifices had to be made.

“I won’t let you!” Padmé kept on him, her hand climbing higher to latch onto the back of his knee. The extra weight shook Anakin, his grip slipping off the antenna. Those piercing eyes burned into his, almost pleading for him to stop, but she didn’t understand. Not the ice princess.

“Sorry,” Anakin shrugged and kicked his leg.

“What are you…?” she cried, her fingers digging in deeper. He felt the force twisting to her machinations, lines of cold blue clamping down upon his calf. Anakin stared down at the node she was pouring into him.

Let go.

The force snapped back at her, Padmé’s certain eyes flying open in shock. Her lips parted as her grip upon him slipped. She tried to lash out once more, but Anakin deflected it, sending the apprentice tumbling towards the planet below. She’d save herself, she had to have a backup plan already in play. It was Padmé.

No, forget her. All his focus was upon Hoss. His lightsaber stuck in that damn plating, melting it off but not fast enough. A freezing chill smothered Anakin’s body, his lips shivering as they drained bluer. His mouth gaped open as he gasped for breath, the oxygen growing thinner.

Not about to give in, his hold on the antenna released, his body sliding down until both of his hands hooked upon the lightsaber. The extra pull drew it further down, more of the outer plating of the ship cracking off.

_Yes. You won’t survive this Hoss. You’re going to…_

_To…_

Anakin glanced up, watching in wonder as the ship pierced through the last red clouds to a black velvet sky punctuated in stars. Beautiful.

His finger slipped, silencing the lightsaber. As the blade retracted, so too went his grip, Anakin falling backwards from the ship. Free-falling, his body flew through the air, plunging to the ground below. Darkness seared over his vision, but pocked amongst it were all the stars of the galaxy.


	2. Cargo

“Anakin…”

The wind didn’t cease blowing past him, but as he opened his eyes and tipped his head back, he found the peeved blue eyes of his Master glaring at him. Anakin tried to scrabble to his feet, only to find his back splayed out on the nose of a ship Obi-Wan must have caught his falling body with.

Hoss.

He jerked his head to the clouds, but they were too low for him to see into orbit. To see if that monster made it to hyperlight or not.

“What did I say about death defying stunts, Anakin?” Obi-Wan wouldn’t let up. The descent of the ship slowed enough Anakin was able to turn on his knees and leap into the seat beside his Master.

“To limit it to once every other day,” he said while rubbing his hands. They pulsed as if he burned them, but it was icicles that coated his flesh instead of soot. How close had he approached to becoming stardust?

“You are an impossible student,” Kenobi sighed, turning the ship around to land back towards the canyon.

Anakin shrugged before he remembered and asked, ”Padmé?”

“She landed near Master Lan’vass. That girl was wise enough to pack her parachute before leaping onto a runaway transport. I knew you would not have.”

“Yes, yes. Let’s all praise the Pr…Padmé for being prepared. Truly, she’s the greatest Jedi of our generation because she thinks to carry a multi-pronged fork in the event a fancy dinner breaks out,” Anakin grumbled into his chest, his arms folded into the sleeves of his robes to warm them up. Why was it taking so long?

Obi-Wan chuckled, “I cannot determine if you two truly hate each other or…”

“Or? There is no or. She is a snobby, know-it-all, bookworm.”

His Master’s weary eyes drifted over him, Anakin feeling the patronizing pat upon his shoulder. “There is always an or, Padawan.”

“Great,” he rolled his eyes, “back to that again.”

“You did nearly turn yourself into a crater on the desert floor,” Kenobi chastised before twisting the ship around for a proper landing. Obi-Wan took his time going over the flight controls to brake while Anakin leapt from his seat into the red sands. The cargo container they worked to cut free rested partially on its side and against the canyon wall.

Master Lan’vass was approaching it. She drew back her hood, exposing her mass of curly black hair to the unforgiving winds. For a brief moment, she turned back to the two men catching up. Lan’vass was striking not only in combat, though any padawan would have given his right hand to serve as her apprentice, but in her looks. With skin as dark as rich earth, her cheekbones cut so high her eyes rested from atop like two golden falcons upon their aerie. Twin lines of bone-white pigment were painted against her piton-like chin, and three dots upon the apples of both her cheeks.

She moved with grace towards the locked door of the cargo crate while her scraggly scrub brush of an apprentice beside her tried to catch up. Padmé’s braid looked as if she let a mouse run through it, brown hair sticking out from the links at all angles. For a beat, her eyes drifted over to Anakin but she scowled in such an ugly fashion he turned to stare at the sun.

A hand landed on his shoulder, drawing his attention to Obi-Wan who passed over Anakin’s lightsaber. “You dropped this in your rather idiotic, but unforgettable, plummet.” Anakin rolled his fingers over the extension of his arm, remembering each piece he’d selected and placed to craft it from the force. Sheathing it, he glanced at his Master who wasn’t done with the lesson. “Don’t lose your lightsaber, not if you can help it.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin tried to not sigh. He’d been told that same mantra since he first gathered the crystal to make his. Often two or three times an hour. The sound of grinding metal drew him to look over at the women. Lan’vass finished hefting up the fallen door and slipped partially inside.

“Master, what was in that cargo container?” he asked, his lip falling open as he picked up on the fall of footsteps inside the metal container. Far more than the ones belonging to two Jedi.

“Don’t you know? Of course not, Anakin pay attention during a briefing. The Sith would overrun the galaxy were such a thing to occur,” Obi-Wan sighed.

Feet, some bare and bloody, some in rags, plummeted to the red dirt. Faces scratched and bruised from more than the rough landing blinked against the sun taking their first breath of freedom. Anakin sucked in a breath, his memory dredging up the same moment from his past.

“Slaves,” Obi-Wan said with a shrug.

“I thought slavery was forbidden within the Republic,” Anakin cursed, watching as the poor and destitute — probably swept up off the streets of Corsucant or any other prosperous city across the galaxy — stumbled to another transport waiting for them.

“It is, which is why we are here stopping it,” Obi-Wan answered.

Anakin shook his head, thoughts rattling in his brain. “But they let Hoss land on this planet. Let him take people! How many other slavers are they turning a blind eye to?”

“We cannot solve everyone’s problems, Apprentice. Corruption, sadly, runs through much of the galaxy. All we can do is lance the boil when it grows too large.”

It wasn’t right. If they’d been too late, if he hadn’t have leapt onto the truck… If Padmé hadn’t have cut it loose, all those people would be in chains. Not just adults either. Anakin gulped watching children, some barely old enough to walk, stumble from the crate. Lan’vass was guiding them, getting the crowd moving quickly to the promise of water and rations.

A tiny girl, a Twi’lek with her green head tentacles down to her scabbed up knees, stumbled. Hands helped her up, but in doing so, something fell from her grip. She began to cry inconsolable tears as the horde moved her on towards the caravan.

“My dolly!” the girl who couldn’t be more than five tried to reach through the bars of the livestock truck they were using to transport them. Her fingers strained, but there was no chance she could reach the dropped toy in the rusted sand.

Raising his hand, Anakin called upon the Force. The doll with two blue head tentacles and a soft pink dress rose into the air. It danced back and forth as it drew closer, causing the girl’s eyes to widen in shock, until Anakin pushed it into her aching fingers. The little girl, who’d no doubt seen things that’d make grown men break down, hugged her only toy tight to her chest.

“Obi-Wan,” Lan’vass called, her head tipping to the inside of the cargo. His Master dashed forward, eyes widening to pierce the dark shadows. Both watched his fellow Jedi with a hand gripped to a Gungan’s arm. “This is the one we want.”

The Gungan trembled even as the Jedi Master effortlessly pulled him to his feet. “Th-thank you,” he mumbled through cracked lips.

“Padmé,” Lan’vass ordered, her apprentice uncorking a canteen and drenching the Gungan’s head. He sighed in ecstasy as his face rehydrated, the wrinkles and cracks smoothing to make him look twenty years younger.

“Take him to our ship,” Lan’vass continued. “We need to return to the Council immediately.”

“Agreed,” Obi-Wan nodded. Seeming no longer interested in the remaining slaves still huddled in the back of the cargo crate, he began to steps to his ship.

“Wait,” Anakin called, rushing to his Master’s side. “What about these people?”

“The local government shall deal with it. Find them shelter, food, the usual.”

“The same government that let Hoss waltz in and take whoever he wanted?” Anakin grumbled.

“I know this is a sore spot with you, but you must trust in the Council. We have far greater problems in the galaxy than a solitary slaver.”

The Council didn’t care about saving these people at all. Hoss just accidentally grabbed someone they needed for their reasons. If not for that unfortunate mistake, they’d all be…

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan shouted from the pilot seat.

Shaking off the cloying memories of his past, the apprentice Jedi turned on his heel and walked solemnly to the ship, “Yes, Master.”


	3. Meditation

Fingers poised over the ancient pages, Padmé dug deeper within herself. The flame shuddered at her intrusion, flickering further and further away. With each hungry reach it’d leap to a new wick, practically laughing at the foolish apprentice daring to touch it. Listen to the waves of the universe, the beat of life within…

Within…

Her eye popped open, exhausted brown rolling across the meditative garden to find the source of her displeasure. She needn’t see to know who it was. She needn’t hear the whinging voice to place the face. The force itself cracked with his presence.

Padmé frowned at the memory of how easily he hurled her off the ship. Like swatting a fly while she dug in with everything she had.

Shake it off. Ignore him.

“…So half the guards are down, they’re calling for reinforcements and I’ve got no choice. We leap straight down the hole.”

“What happened next?” One of the girls clinging to his every word prodded him. As if he needed encouragement in bandying his ego about.

“The Duchess runs ahead of me while I’m covering our retreat. Which is when I hear a scream.” He paused, his sparkling blue eyes drifting over the denizens at his feet. “We landed in a rancor pit, eggs and hatchinglings far as the eye can see, and mama rancor was none too happy to have us stumbling around in her nursery.”

“Oh no,” the younger apprentice gasped, a hand flush to her cheek.

 _He bloody well survived, unless you think this is a ghost you’re speaking to._ Padmé’s eyes snapped open to find Anakin perched upon the feet of a statue of his betters. Scattered before his legs were two apprentices, both girls a few years younger, both clearly hoping for his full attention.

Anger snapped away whatever grip she had upon the force and hope for tranquility. Snarling, she spat at him, “This is a place for meditation. Hold your tongue or go elsewhere.”

Three pairs of eyes glared over at the girl beside the cascading waterfall, but she only caught Anakin’s. The air itself crackled in two between them, Padmé’s entire balance lurching to the side. It felt as if she suffered vertigo, the ground inverting under her feet whenever she had to look upon him. He disquieted her in a way not any other Jedi, not even the most powerful on the Council, could.

“Very well.” Anakin shrugged, an easy smile that so easily fooled the others sliding into place. She tipped her head, grateful for the reprieve, when Anakin’s smile twisted into a smirk. “After all, you can’t argue with a Princess.”

Slamming the book closed, Padmé launched to her feet. She stomped across the crackling mosaics dedicated to the Old Order and jammed a finger in his face. For his part Anakin stared at the offending digit rather than her eyes. “You aren’t half as clever as you think you are. If not for Master Kenobi, both you and the Duchess would have been torn limb from limb in that pit. And who knows how many other times prior.”

“You don’t know that,” Anakin sputtered, clearly thrown from his perch.

“I know that you’re sloppy. You’re inconsistent with your form, often exposing weak points to the enemy. You rush headlong into fights you can’t hope to win,” she shouted every thought she’d had to keep locked in her head since watching vids of his fights. It was obvious to any who saw it, but somehow he was allowed to continue on without reproach. Without his Master knocking him back into the proper shape of a Jedi. _He_ got to do as he wished.

Folding her arms, Padmé glanced down at the girls fawning over him. “And you’d do well to re-read the Jedi handbook on matters of fraternization. It seems to have passed you by.”

Anakin snickered, finally leaping from the statue. He patted his knees as if he had not a care in the world. “Sorry if I prefer employing this tactic called being friendly. See, when you’re not cold as Hoth to people, they sometimes like being around you. I can understand why it’s an unfamiliar concept for you.”

“I am…!” Padmé drew herself higher, cursing her waning height. To have Anakin literally staring down at her seemed a cruel twist of the universe.

“What?” He stuck his face closer to her, his lips rising higher in that familiar smug grin. “What are you, Apprentice Princess? Sorry, Padmé.”

Her fingers rolled into a fist, wanting to punch him in the jaw. He deserved it after he nearly ruined her mission, could have killed her without thought. Killed so many from his folly and he didn’t blink once in reproach. No. Put away the anger. Remember who you are.

“I know what I am, Apprentice Skywalker. Disciplined. It is you, however, that is called into question.”

“Me?” He prodded at his chest, about to laugh at the question.

“You are incapable of self control. Every apprentice, every padawan in this temple knows it. Your fighting skills lack the polish of an outer-rim pirate, never mind a seasoned Apprentice. There is only one reason why you are even in the Jedi order and you know it.”

Clouds darkened those sky blue eyes, his entire face falling into shadow. That lighthearted come-what-may voice dropped like a rock. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“No?” she scoffed. “I have watched every single battle you’ve entered into. Every mistake. Every poorly timed strike, every missed parry.”

“Why?”

“Wh…why?” Padmé repeated back, her cheeks stinging at the look of shock in his face. To learn. To hone herself to be better than him. To…there were lots of reasons beyond wanting to watch him. Having to watch him. The fact it was often Anakin in her vids was exhausting. She grew tired of his face instantly.That was a fact.

“Because!” she sputtered, before sighing, “Some of us are capable of recognizing we are not a lone comet in the galaxy. You on the other hand…”

Anakin stuck his jaw out, his teeth chewing back and forth as if in thought. Humorous to consider him capable of such reflection. “I think about far more people than you do,” he spat out.

“Ha,” she laughed once, her arms crossing over her chest. The leather tunic creaked from such a stretch.

“I wasn’t the one to just let a slaver go because the mission said so.”

“No, instead you nearly perished and he still got away.”

Snarling, Anakin twisted away from her. He growled deep in his chest, “At least I tried.” That seemed to be the end of it, Anakin fumbling inside of himself. She wondered at times what it was like for him to meditate. He seemed incapable of introspection, perhaps he simply took a nap while he was meant to be looking deep inside of himself. No doubt he’d be the type to sit around shirtless, and in nothing more than…

Than…not the point!

A light struck in Anakin’s eyes and he turned to Padmé, “Duel me.”

“You can’t be serious,” she laughed.

“If I’m such a colossal waste of these robes,” he tugged on his, “then it shouldn’t be any problem for you to take me down.”

“We are in the temple atrium, there is no…” Padmé began, wafting her hands around the tranquil spot. Here Jedi came to soothe their aching souls, not engage in heated battle. _Walk away from this. You have nothing to prove to him._

“Well, Princess?” He tipped his head and all common sense flew out the window.

Snarling, she unsheathed her lightsaber. The green blast burst through the air, Anakin barely blinking at how close it came to burning his eyebrows off. With a lackadaisical twist of his wrist, he too unearthed his blue one — the core so pure it looked nearly nonexistent, as if it was both all light and none at the same time.

It’d take nothing for her to slice his saber in half. Have him try to explain that to Obi-Wan, or the Council, or any other giggly girls hanging upon his every word. But there were rules.

With a resigned sigh, Padmé dialed back the strength of her lightsaber. It’d sting to be struck, but wouldn’t dice off body parts. Anakin did the same, his blue fame turning skinnier as it crackled through the air. Tipping his head, his eyes burning the same shade as his lightsaber, Anakin said, “Ladies first.”

Fool.

Her hands moved fast, one attack from overhead, the second under. Anakin was quick, anyone who’d seen him in battle knew that. It was nothing for him to parry her thrusts away, sparks skittering over the floor when saber met saber. Padmé didn’t slow for a moment, her movements obvious to anyone with sense. She wanted him to know where she was going to attack. How she would attack.

With a yawn in his voice, Anakin reflected her last thrust, which was when Padmé spun in place. Her second attack slashed at his knee. The boy was ill prepared for that, a shock rampaging up his skin from the contact. If she hadn’t have calmed her blade, he’d be without a leg.

That woke him up, both hands gripping to his lightsaber as he fell into the flurry of Padmé’s attacks. “You have no proper form!” she shouted, leaping into the air. One foot lashed out, striking Anakin in the same knee. He twisted to avoid that, but she came back with the blunt end of her lightsaber into his jaw.

“You fight as if you’re invulnerable!” Padmé shrieked. Anakin tried to stumble back, a red welt rising upon his chin and cheek, but he couldn’t escape her. “You treat every tenet of the order as a joke,” she snarled.

Anakin raised his arm high to try and block her attack. Too high. With a swing of her hand, Padmé easily drove her blade through the boy’s right wrist. The shock struck him hard, his hand flying to escape the pain, and with it went his lightsaber. It bounded against the statue, the girls scattering away as if it were diseased.

Defenseless, Anakin turned to watch Padmé pacing towards him. She proved her point. She disarmed him without taking a single blow to herself.

_He threw you off the ship._

Leaping forward, lightsaber above her head, Padmé cried, “You have no right to be here!” She aimed for his head, her green blade whipping through the air. It’d take nothing for her to strike through to his brains, give them the jolt they needed. That they deserved. Padmé drove it forward, not caring about the consequences, when her entire body hit an invisible wall.

Anakin slapped his wrists together directly before his face protecting himself. But no, more than that, he was using the Force as a shield. She could almost see it, the power so strong it emanated in waves around him. It came to him without a second thought, like a loyal dog ready to do its master’s bidding without provocation.

Snarling, Padmé tried to push back. To draw upon her own connection and drive herself forward. The Force snapped back against her, all of it huddling around their boy, their chosen one. It was why he was still alive, it was why he didn’t have to learn. Why he didn’t have to devote his life to studying and honing his body.

It began to push back against her, trying to hurl her away from him. She dug herself in deeper, calling upon the strength of her mind to keep her on her feet. But it wouldn’t last. A few seconds and Anakin would send her flying through the air same as he did on the planet.

Her foot lashed into the air, kicking hard into his kneecap. As Anakin buckled so too did the pressure. Padmé gasped, struggling to get a breath in as the golden boy flopped backwards. She stepped up to him, her legs astride his crumbling body. The only lightsaber in play crackled between them, Padmé holding it in place to remind him he lost. He got what he deserved.

“Apprentice!”

Padmé whipped her head up at the voice of her Master. Lan’vass stood beside Obi-Wan, both Jedi glaring at the pair of them. Instantly, Padmé silenced her lightsaber and sheathed it.

“What are you doing?” Lan’vass began to berate her lowly apprentice trying to scamper off of Anakin. “This is a place of healing, not battle.”

“He,” she jabbed to the damn boy that drove her to it. “He challenged me to a duel.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed in his usual weary voice. None would ever call the man out when his apprentice misbehaved and the only punishment came in the form of a tongue wagging. No, they all needed him around. Needed Anakin to be the best, to fulfill his destiny, and none cared about who he stepped on in his climb.

Lan’vass crisply walked past her shrinking apprentice. She offered a hand to Anakin, helping the boy to rise to his feet. Those golden eyes whipped over to Padmé and she chastised, “You did not have to accept.”

“Yes, Master,” Padmé mumbled, her gut rolling at her impudence. _Why did she do that? Why did she let him get the better of her?_

“There is no time to punish you now,” Lan’vass spoke to both of them. “The Council has requested our presence immediately. Come along.” Her Master spun on her heels, easily falling beside Obi-Wan. With a hint of a smile, she said over her shoulder, “And try to not rip each other to shreds in their chambers.”

Fuming, Padmé’s skin broke out in goosepimples. Her gut churned at how easily she lost control. And for what purpose? She broke the rules only to… From the corner of her eye, she watched as Anakin waved his hand. Zipping through the air, his lightsaber folded into the palm of its owner without pause. Her jaw fell in shock. She could barely manage such a feat still.

At the come-what-may smile filling his face, that damn Anakin once again unimpressed with his innate power, Padmé twisted her fingers into a fist.


	4. The Council

The council nearly filled the ring of seats. Anakin noticed a few members missing, not entirely surprising as matters had been heating up around the outer rim. He was about to make such a comment to Obi-Wan, when he caught the pickled glare of Padmé. Normally, she’d be clinging to her Master’s skirt, but she put a buffer around herself and everyone else in the room. Had he gotten that easily under her skin without even trying?

It was her fault for starting the duel in the first place.

“You’re all here, good,” Master Windu spoke, shaking away Anakin’s thoughts. “Our guest is ready to talk.” He turned from his position to reveal that same gungan they pulled out of the cargo crate. Now in a trim tunic and trousers instead of the worn-out rags, he looked like any other hired help working to keep the Jedi temple in shape.

“This is Junn La,” Windu continued, clearly waiting for the gungan to speak, but the ex-slave’s bulging eyes rotated cautiously around the room before landing square upon Padmé.

“Your Majesty,” he took a full step forward and collapsed to a knee. While the force hummed from the awkward situation, it was Padmé’s blaring red aura that yanked Anakin’s attention straight to her. A cherry blush stained her cheeks, her doe eyes wide in shock as she staggered back.

“Please, please don’t…I’m not. I’m only a Jedi,” she finally spat out, her body trying to slide further and further from the man kowtowing at her feet.

What was the gungan doing? Bowing to her — the scraggly, scrub brush know-it-all? Could they not tell other people apart?

“What you know, tell us Mister Junn La…” Master Yoda spoke through the confounding awkwardness. With a wave of the Master’s small hand, the tension dissipated, allowing Anakin’s chest to lift along with the pressure. Still, he kept the side of his eye trained upon Padmé. He’d never seen her so off put, not in nearly ten years of training. What was all that about?

The gungan drew his fingers together, clenching them tighter as if he had to gasp out whatever was weighing on his mind. “There is to be an attack upon Naboo.”

“When?” Obi-Wan took control, a finger rifling through his beard in thought.

“Soon. Within a galactic week for certain. They intend to…” once again those watery eyes drifted to Padmé as if she was leading this, “to assassinate the Queen.”

Gasps of concern broke from the gathered Jedi while Anakin folded his arms and scoffed, “What, again?”

“Apprentice…” Obi-Wan warned, but he couldn’t understand this line of attack.

“We saved her once before.”

“We?” Master Kenobi’s eyebrow shot up, his icy eyes glaring at the boy they scrounged up out of a scrap shop.

“You did, Master. Why would the Federation…?”

“It is not the Federation,” Junn La interrupted, his throat bobbing as he swallowed deep. “The Separatists are the ones behind this.”

Yoda wiggled out of his chair, his small form sliding across the polished floor. Every tongue was held in respect for the elderly Jedi until he reached the middle and started up a hologram projection. Naboo, a planet he had barely any memories of, formed into view and began to rotate.

“Problem, this can be,” the Master Jedi explained. “Not as welcoming as they once were. Distrust of the Jedi has grown.”

“The Queen will…”

Anakin’s jaw dropped to find that out of everyone in the room it was Miss Perfect Padmé that dared to interrupt Master Yoda. She seemed to catch her folly instantly, a hand flying up to cover her impetuous mouth. Funny, she was accusing him of the same not two minutes earlier and look at her now.

“Please continue, Apprentice,” Mace Windu gave her the leave.

“I only mean,” her head dipped down, hiding away her eyes from everyone, “the Queen would not turn her back upon the Jedi order. She couldn’t.”

“Hm,” Yoda tapped his walking cane upon the floor thrice in contemplation. “Could, could not? Much of the galaxy is formed by the could not.”

“Naboo is well fortified by both the Republic, despite the testy alliance at the moment, and its own army. Why would any think they could take it?” Master Lan’vass spoke, her golden eyes cutting across the council. Some wondered why she didn’t have a seat, often loudly enough the sitting members growled at the accusations. No one had the courage to ask the woman herself.

Yoda nodded to her, then shifted to the ramrod straight gungan who kept his hands conspicuously in front of himself, “The rest, you must tell.”

“Right. Of course. I will, it’s only…the Separatists, they don’t.” He swallowed and stared straight ahead at Padmé, “They have all of the security codes for the palace.”

“What? How?” she cried as if it was her life at stake.

“Because I gave it to them,” Junn La admitted.

“You traitor!” She spat at his feet, a finger rising as if she intended to jab through the man’s chest. “Only those close to my…to the Queen would have those codes! You must have been, and to turn upon her! How dare you…?”

“It was a moment of weakness,” he cried, both hands clasped together as he fell to his knees. “Forgive me, please.”

Padmé sneered, an odd sight upon her usually passive face. Someone needed to read up on the Jedi manual about containing one’s emotions. Her lip flexed as if she had every intention to order the pleading man’s execution. “It is not mine to give,” sputtered from her mouth as she turned to stand beside and slightly behind her Master. Stuffing her hands into her robes she scowled at the floor, not even glancing once at Anakin constantly staring at her.

“Wait, if you were a traitor to Naboo and informant for the Separatists how did you wind up in Hoss’ slave carriage?” Anakin asked. He needed to find a way to bring back up the slavers name, to get someone on the council to give him leave to find the bastard and put him down. Caring about the traitor’s life story wasn’t high on his list of priorities but it served him.

“When I heard what they were going to do, I…I had to get this information to the Republic. But none would listen. The only way to stop this, to save my…my Queen was by hiding amongst a contingent of slaves.”

Anakin snorted, “You damn near wound up in chains for the rest of your life.”

“It was a risk,” he kept confessing as if he’d already punished himself for selling his Queen out. As if there was anything he could do to make up for such a transgression.

“Naboo is our focus,” Mace Windu said, standing taller so the fading Corsucant sun bounced off his bald head. “We’ve tried to make contact with the Queen’s forces but they refuse to listen. They’re also avoiding any communication from the Senate.”

“Most disconcerting,” Yoda agreed. Damn it. They were turning back to their own problems. Politics, agendas. Entire planets at stake. And what fell through the cracks? Hoss, yet again free to skip from world to world rounding up the helpless to line his pockets.

“What about Hoss?” Anakin shouted, all of the Masters turning to glare at him. His flesh prickled, hot nodes forming up his spine, but when he caught a sliver of Padmé’s eyes shifting over to him, he shook it all off. “Who does he work for?” He rounded on the gungan. “No way someone like that does business on his own. Not with the Separatists. Who is it?”

_Tell me where he is. Tell me so I can finally put a knife through his skull._

Junn La’s wary eyes drifted from the apprentice that cursed him out to the one about to. He was hiding something. Anakin could practically taste it in the air, his ears pounding to find the secret. The gungan’s lips opened, his jaw prepared to announce whatever he was hiding, when the council doors opened.

Four Jedi turned to the interruption, glares rising. Obi-Wan coughed out, “None are to enter and trespass upon private council business.” Anakin wanted to feel sorry for whoever was stupid enough to ignore an order from the Council when that Senate leader waltzed into the room. What was his name?

“Ah, Chancellor Palpatine,” Master Windu smiled bright, reaching out to clasp the man’s hand.

“Master Jedi,” he greeted with that political bob of his head. “I came as soon as I could.”

“In time, you are,” Yoda picked up the thought, hobbling towards the grandfatherly Chancellor. “News we have.”

“There is to be an assassination attempt upon the Queen of Naboo,” Windu continued, his eyes burning into the Chancellor’s as if he expected there to be an answer from the elderly man. Way Anakin heard it, most didn’t think much of Palpatine’s reign. He seemed more feckless than faustian, even for a geriatric Senate.

“That is a problem,” the Chancellor scratched at his clean-shaven chin, folding the wrinkles tighter together. “They are about to take a vote whether the planet shall leave the Republic or not.”

“What?” Windu exclaimed. “Leave the Republic? They are a major trade route for…half of the galaxy. Why are we only hearing of this now?”

“They fear retribution from a vengeful Republic led by a Jedi attack force,” Palpatine said, then winced at the ring of Jedi surrounding him. “No offense.”

“And you have done nothing to stop them? You are the Chancellor of the Intergalactic Senate!” Windu wouldn’t let this go for anything.

“Be that as it may, Naboo is also my home. I would not wish for them to break from tradition, but who am I to stop them? It is the will of the people.”

“Curious, now for wills to bend. For minds to cloud, fear to envelop,” Yoda mused to himself clipping around in a circle. “As if the darkside is rising.”

Palpatine forced on a smile, “I don’t know much about this darkside, but if an assassination attempt upon Queen Amidala is successful I can assure you there is nothing the Senate can do to keep Naboo on our side. I fear it could lead to even more rattling amongst other uncertain planets if such a tragedy were to occur.”

“Hm,” Yoda nodded, his eyes shut tight, “War.”

“We’re already fighting the damn Federation and Separatist’s droid army at every turn,” Anakin spoke up. “How is this not war?”

He held his ground at both Windu and Yoda eyeing him up, felt an eye roll out of Obi-Wan, but it was the curious turn of the Chancellor that paused Anakin. “Have we met before?”

“Young Skywalker, he is.”

“Ah, of course,” the Chancellor extended his limp palm out for Anakin. With no recourse, the Jedi accepted it. He was shocked when the clammy fingers turned out to be rock solid, clamping around his hand with a tight shake. “You were the young boy who won the pod race.”

Anakin sneered, yanking his fingers free and falling back. “Yes, that is all I shall ever be remembered for.”

“Oh,” Palpatine eyed him up, “I doubt that very much.”

Striding forward from her oasis of serenity, Master Lan’vass pronounced, “I officially request leave from the Council to protect Queen Amidala from any Separatist machinations.”

“We hoped you’d say as such,” Mace Windu nodded to her, his eyes drifting from Lan’vass back to Padmé shrinking in the corner.

“Obi-Wan,” Yoda suddenly spoke up, “assist you will.”

“Of course, Master,” Kenobi bent his head low, a hand saluting to his chest. Then his eyes sparkled towards Lan’vass, “Shall we flip to decide who takes the lead?”

Lan’vass chuckled, “You already know I’d win, so I see no reason in bothering.”

Was that it? Were they just going to walk out of here, fly off to Naboo, save some moldy Queen, and give not a nerf-herder fart for the slaver that got away? Raising his chin higher, Anakin glared Mace Windu in the eye, “What of Hoss?”

“Who?”

“The slaver, the man who…who took all those people. Who keeps stealing people from the Republic. He needs to be stopped,” Anakin said, doing his best to keep control of his voice. Even still, he felt Obi-Wan eyeing him up. He was in for more tongue wagging later, that much was certain.

“Anakin, we have greater pressing issues than…” his Master began, as he knew he would.

“Hm,” Yoda closed his eyes in thought, a green finger digging into his ear. “Yes. Pursue Hoss you should. Get to the bottom of his empire, you will.”

“Are you certain?” Mace Windu whipped to his fellow Jedi. “Naboo is the priority.”

“Yes, it is. Handled by two Master Jedi. An apprentice will find Hoss,” Yoda said bringing a smile to Anakin, the first true one since he watched Hoss slip through his fingers. “Two will.” The Master turned towards Padmé, who finally glanced up from her sulk.

No. No, no, no.

The word burned in Anakin’s throat, aching to be released. They wanted him to go with her? On a mission? Together? Impossible!

But he managed to tamp it down. This would get him Hoss. It didn’t matter if he had the perfect princess on his tail for it. As long as that bastard’s wings were finally clipped, he could put up with Padmé’s prattle for a few parsecs.

“Take lead you will,” Yoda paused, his eyes swinging to Anakin, “Apprentice Amidala.”

_What?!_

“Of course, Master,” she accepted without even flinching. But Anakin could feel her smug sense of superiority. It damn near radiated out in every direction. The perfect Jedi kept her head level but those brown eyes drifted towards him, the edge of her lip lifting in a smirk.

Master Windu clapped his hands, drawing their attention back to him, “You have your orders. Protect the Republic at all costs.”

“We will,” Lan’vass said, her head bowed.

“And may the Force be with you.”

As the other Jedi all repeated back the phrase, Anakin finally tore his eyes off of the smirking Apprentice to trail over the gungan. He’d fallen silent, his eyes opening wider than a sarlaac pit. For once they weren’t aimed at Padmé or even Yoda. No, he seemed shockingly terrified of their useless, grandfatherly Chancellor.

Gungans really couldn’t tell humans apart.


	5. Princess

Master Kenobi walked close enough to Anakin he could bump his shoulder. Each hit was done to try and still the grumbling on his tongue. When Anakin glanced over, those ice blue eyes would be focused straight ahead as if unaware, but he could feel the warning. It would do him no good to voice his complaints anyway. No chance his Master would side against the Council.

As the pair emerged into the hangar, he spotted two Starfighters rumbling through their pre-take-off checks. The left glistened from a fresh paint job nearly as onyx as space itself while the one on the right looked as if it’d been dragged through the corona of a sun. Of course, Obi-Wan slapped Anakin on the shoulder and pointed to the right.

“That’s yours. Try not to break it.”

“I’d say it’s come pre-broken,” Anakin sniffed, eyeing up an engine already ten years out of date. What was this even doing in the Jedi temple? He turned to his Master, hoping for the man to laugh and gesture to their real transport instead of a flying pile of scrap, when he heard Lan’vass speaking.

In the rumbling acoustics of the hanger, her melodic voice carried clear across every ship in the bay. Anakin twisted to find her standing deeper in the bay with her hands clasped behind her back, chin high as she surveyed her better ship. “You are concerned?” she asked, clearly speaking to the girl waiting behind her, though she didn’t turn to her.

“I am content, Master,” the shadow answered.

Padmé was…she was carrying a book under her arms. One with paper and everything. This was going to be a long trip. Anakin roughed over his cheeks, feeling the sting of new bristles against his skin. He should probably shave soon. Last thing he wanted was to look as old and worn out as his mentor.

Lan’vass turned. “You are right to be concerned. It is not weakness to worry. It is weakness to be consumed by your worries.”

“I…yes, Master. I understand.”

“We will protect the Queen, the Jedi have ruled it thus,” Lan’vass smiled, seeming to be comforting Padmé. What’d she care about the politics on some random planet in the galaxy?

Nodding her head, Padmé gripped onto both of her Master’s hands and clung tighter. Before she could step away, Lan’vass said, “Apprentice, I have the utmost confidence in you.”

“Thank you,” Padmé smiled, her eyes wider than usual. They looked wet, as if Anakin expected to find tears dripping down her cheeks. But that was foolish. She was as cold as the hull on the Starfighters, everyone knew it. He kept watching her speak parting words to her Master, a cloak tossed over those robes that hid away any hint of her having a form below. Even her breasts were…

“Anakin.”

Snapping away from the girl he was not staring at, not in that way, Anakin turned to Obi-Wan. The man followed his apprentice’s original line of sight, and snickered. Patting him on the shoulder, he said, “Don’t mess this up.”

“That’s not…” Anakin began, a snarky response on his lips, when the perfect princess strolled over. She tugged up the hood on her robe, most of her porcelain face hidden in the shadow.

Clearly not wanting to get in the middle of it, Obi-Wan waltzed off to Lan’vass’ side. The pair of them fell into a private discussion, often walking closer than seemed necessary. Who knew what Jedi secrets they’d spit back at each other once they were out of apprentice hearing range?

“We should leave,” Padmé interrupted his thoughts. Not even lead for an hour and already she was being a pain. It was going to be a very long mission.

With a smile, Anakin wafted his head into a small bow. “As you say, princess…”

He expected a snarl, but Padmé’s eyes opened wide and he spotted it again. A single tear hiding in her eye, wobbling as if a soft breeze could knock it free. She sucked it back in, the scowl slotting into place. “Will you cease being such a…” Whatever curse she had she swallowed, her chest rising as she took a breath. “I am in charge, and you shall have to either accept that fact or remain behind.”

“I’m perfectly fine with following commands,” Anakin admitted.

Her eyelids blinked fast, the thin bottom lip stuck out. After a time she said, “I’m waiting for the _but_ , or _however_ , or _as long as_. Some qualifier to prove your insolence.”

Smiling with a chuckle, Anakin said, “Tell me what to do and where to go, and I’ll do it. That is what the council ordered, after all. You’re the brains and I’m the…” He flexed his arm, trying to show off a muscle hidden under two sets of robes.

At that, Padmé rolled her eyes. “Then my first order is for you to cease calling me ‘princess.’”

Her eyes flashed at him even under the shadow of the hood, her cheeks erupted into a taunting pink, and the flush made her skin glow. Anakin’s lips lifted into a smile at the sight, before he shuddered. _This is Padmé. You only look twice upon her to see how she intends to ruin your day._ Trying to bundle away that disquieting feeling in the back of his brain, he answered, “As you say P-p-p…”

Those eyes that very nearly dazzled him narrowed like a viper’s, quickly wiping away any foolish tug of attraction. It wasn’t even that. He was off balance after leaving Hoss without a hole in his head. Nothing more.

“Padmé,” Anakin finished with, smiling wide at her.

The scoff echoed around the hangar, Padmé pivoting on her heel as she stomped towards the ramp. Anakin dug into his shoulder, ready to follow, when he heard a series of beeps and chirps erupt from behind him.

Barely turning in time, an astromech droid nearly ran him over as it raced to follow. “What the…?” he shouted, trying to catch himself from falling. “You!” It was R2-D2, that same damn droid from when he was a Padawan. The head spun around, its eye glaring at him.

“Oh, Anakin,” his Master’s voice echoed from outside the door to his own ship. “You’re taking the R2 unit with you.”

At that, R2-D2 shimmied back and forth on its little legs, clearly finding the situation hilarious. “Wonderful. Thank you, Master,” Anakin mumbled to himself. He crammed his hands up his sleeves to keep himself from lightsabering off the R2 unit’s head.

The droid rolled up the ramp, nearly bouncing into Padmé’s heels. At the sound, she turned and smiled wide. Like a ranger tending to a lost animal, she dropped to her knees and greeted the droid face to…face. “Hello to you, too,” her smile cracked into a full grin, a few teeth showing as she showered the droid, of all things, in a warmth Anakin never thought her capable of.

His tongue dried out, sticking to the roof of his mouth, fingers clawing into each other as he watched Padmé grow brighter. He’d never seen her look so happy. It was almost…

Scowling, Anakin shook his head. With loud stomps, he clomped on past the apprentice and droid babbling to each other. Padmé’s smile quickly turned into a sneer while R2 clicked and buzzed at him.

At the top of the ramp, he said, “Well, are you coming or not?”

She rose, both Padmé and the droid rolling on past as if they were the height of professionalism. But the perfect Jedi made certain to slightly nudge him in the chest on her way towards the cockpit. With a roll of his eyes, Anakin slammed the door. He was imagining it all.


	6. Landing

Drawing her fingers over the control board, Padmé barely glanced back at the sound of the bridge door opening. With surprisingly more tact than she’d expect, Anakin plummeted to the chair beside her and began to perform expected tasks. They’d punched into the dark space just outside of Corsucant’s solar system, the ship drifting as she steadied herself for the next part.

The sonar was yet trailing the white line trajectory of Lan’vass and Master Kenobi, their ship escaping the gravity of the planet on the other end. Naboo. She hadn’t been back in…five years. There was a ceremony. One that they decided to invite even the Jedi too. It was her first time walking the halls of the palace as an outsider. Eyes that’d have bowed in deference to her family name watched her hands for fear of what a Jedi could do. Little was known about the order outside of the temple for good reason, which meant most concocted wild stories about their powers.

Still. A part of her ached to be on Naboo, to help make certain that her… That the royal family did not fall.

“So,” the voice piped up from beside her. She barely glanced over, her fingers quickly wiping away any hint that she’d been trying to follow her Master’s ship. Anakin had both hands stuck behind his head, his elbows wafting in the artificial breeze. “What’s your big plan to find Hoss? Shake up a few of the seedier bars? Dig up some of the bastard’s contacts and get ‘em to talk?”

“No,” she twisted in the chair to focus on a new screen.

It was a few more seconds of silence before Anakin released his lazy pose and drew his hand over the console. Padmé sucked in a breath, fearing he’d accidentally slap the wrong button and release their engine, but he lowered the sunshade instead. A purple nova sparkled just beyond their windshield, the stars glittering from a cruiser dumping it’s exhaust against the nova.

“Well,” Anakin said, tipping his head, “are you going to tell me or do I have to guess? Just no rancors, I’m begging you.”

Despite her concerns, Padmé chuckled, “No rancors. It’s quite simple.” Wafting her hand over the screen, she switched the middle window to tracking mode. The map of the galaxy zoomed in tighter, revealing a pulsing red dot bouncing through the black. “I put a tracker on Hoss’ right-hand man.”

“Right-hands man,” he threw out as if he’d been saving up for that joke, then blanched. “When?”

“During the fight. As is protocol.”

“Really?” He almost blushed in surprise, a hand digging into his hair and whipping the padawan braid back and forth. “I never would have thought to…”

“It was in the briefing,” she sighed, “but, of course, you’re known for not caring to read them.”

“What? I do just fine on my own,” Anakin smirked back, when R2-D2 beeped at him. He glared at the droid, “Says you. I got all three of those pirates without Obi-Wan’s help.” A few more clicks caused the boy to roll his eyes, “Yeah, you were a big help rolling off and hiding on the ship until it was over.”

He looked about to whack R2 when Padmé sighed, “Could you not destroy Jedi property on this mission? I’d like to return everything in the condition we were given it.”

With a shrug, Anakin stuck both his hands safely behind his head and tipped back in the chair. “Fine.”

She didn’t know what to expect when having to be trapped in close quarters with Apprentice Skywalker, but this wasn’t it. Special trailed his every move, Obi-Wan’s apprentice rarely left in the temple long. No, his days were devoted to traversing the galaxy. Not in class. Not studying the Jedi history or ways.

Which meant whenever he did roll in, it was as if a tsunami struck the temple. People would practically leap out of their way to gawk upon the fabled chosen one, and Anakin ate all that attention up. She’d watch him from the shadows, his seascape eyes lighting on fire as he’d spin his tales for every pretty face in sight.

A man that vain had to be impossible to order around, to even think of obeying a chain of command. No doubt the reason why Obi-Wan kept him far from the temple and any threat of his padawan stepping upon important toes. But here he was listening. At least giving in when Padmé asked him to behave. It was disconcerting to have her conceptions shredded at the edges.

The rest of him was a boorish pain, however.

Adjusting her tracking system, which was obstinately still drifting back and forth as their prey must be traveling through hyperlight, Padmé sighed, “I do not understand why you are even in the Order if you treat it all as a game.”

“What?” The shuttered eyes she’d assumed were closed for a nap snapped open, and Anakin sat higher in the chair. Both hands clung tighter to his knees and his face grew sharper in the soft light of the cockpit.

“You give your Master constant grief, you cannot be bothered to read a single mission briefing, you speak back and refuse to control your emotions… Do you care a whit for the Jedi?”

“Listen here, Pr…precious! You don’t know a thing about me, or my life, or my choices. I would die for the Order, without question. They saved me, gave me purpose. Without the Jedi I’d still be…” Snarling, he spun away. “Forget it. You temple snobs wouldn’t care anyway.”

“Temple snobs?” Padmé snorted.

“Yeah, all of you. The ones who grew up in the temple, in your little cliques, laughing at the scabbed, sand-burnt runt from the outer rim.”

“We never…” She tried to defend their actions as children, but Anakin wouldn’t hear it.

“What would all of you fancy Jedi care about some old slave boy anyway? What would you care about anyone outside the Republic.” Anakin tugged his hood up as if he intended to sleep in the chair beside her.

“We’re not all,” she began, before catching his eye and gulping. The word ‘fancy’ died on her tongue. She was certainly not in a position to make such claims. But there were others in the group. Jedi children found from… Padmé scrunched up her face, trying to remember if any in their class came from outside the Republic. There’d been one, but he…he didn’t last long. No one heard from him after his last day either.

No, it was foolish to consider. Of course the Jedi would accept new recruits from all across the galaxy. The Force came to any and all, regardless of origins. She glanced down at her fingers, her memory snapping back to the meeting of Mace Windu and her father. The accords made, her future set, and everyone agreeing it was for the best. If she’d been some spice slave would any Jedi have glanced twice upon her?

Shaking her head, she continued with her flight checks to keep herself distracted. “Still, it’s no reason for you to not read the mission briefing. Being prepared would save you a lot of grief and keep you from embarrassing yourself in front of the council.”

Anakin snickered from under the shadow of his hood, “I’ll be sure to remember that, your prissiness.”

She couldn’t shake the scowl, whipping around on her chair to glance over at Artoo, “I do not understand how you put up with him?”

The droid bounced on its legs, giving the clear signal that it didn’t. She sighed in agreement. This was going to be a long mission.

 

* * *

 

He kept the micro-spanner pinched between his finger and thumb, trying to delicately turn one of a hundred tiny screws on the base of his lightsaber. It’d been kicking back lately, sometimes the stream ripping in two at the end. Certainly wouldn’t do him well to have it short out in the middle of a fight.

Anakin sighed, laying the screw carefully upon the metal strip. He offered to fine-tune hers as well, but the princess sniffed her nose higher and turned back to whatever was keeping her busy. Getting out of the cockpit seemed wise for all involved, but then the damn droid had to follow him. Its sensors were locked on him, the head barely twisting as if it was trying to burn into his brain.

“You know you’re staying on the ship,” he said aloud, barely glancing over at the silent droid. R2 rotated at that, beeping in disagreement. “Oh, don’t think you can run to her. You’re already out-of-date, should have been scrapped years back. You’d be nothing more than a liability on this mission.”

Holding his breath, he began to drop the screw into place. Anakin’s eyes drifted away from the rolling trash-can, all focus upon the butt end of his lightsaber. An unexpected hiss ripped through the air, electricity sparking from the damn droid’s output unit. It trembled through Anakin’s nervous system, causing his stripped apart lightsaber to rattle in his fingers. Screws shot out at every angle, flying into the ship, but he threw a hand up before they fell, pinning each one in place. They rotated in the air, answering to his whims, but it was to the droid he glared.

“You bucket of…” Anakin hissed, advancing upon the R2 unit trying to roll back into the shadows. He raised his foot, about to kick hard into the droid’s off button.

“We’ve got a lock,” Padmé called over the ship system.

Forgetting the droid, Anakin drew each lost screw back into the baseplate of his lightsaber. The Force easily twisted them home, Anakin slapping on the outer casing as he dashed for the bridge. Padmé sat in the same pilot seat as before, her eyes swinging around the bridge controls.

“Where?” Anakin asked, slipping into the chair beside her.

“Celanon.”

He frowned, “But that’s a…”

“Separatist planet,” she finished his thought, then blinked. “How did you know…?”

“Sometimes I do listen,” he shrugged, working his hands over the consoles.

She snorted as if it was a surprise, then flipped back to the final preparations for hyperlight. “We’ll have to do this quick. Any sight of a Jedi vessel in Separatist space —”

There was no point in finishing the thought, both of them well aware what was at stake. Hoss knew something about whoever was in charge of this attack upon Naboo. Hoss was going to tell them no matter what.

Anakin glanced skyward towards the defensive unit, “Good thing we’ve come prepared. Um, do we know if the guns on this work?”

A lift of her shoulders was all she could give, Anakin sliding back into his seat. “Here’s hoping the Force is with us.”

“Indeed,” Padmé responded. “Artoo?” She spun in the chair to the droid. It beeped, certainly not about to confess to its attack upon the fellow Jedi. Nodding her head, she ordered, “Punch it.”

Space kicked hard into Anakin’s body, warping the molecule inside his trembling veins as the little Starfighter jumped into hyperlight. Every star stretched into an unending line, their eyesight unable to withstand the input given. Some could sit and stare at space stretching past them for hours, but Anakin’s eyes wandered from the watering sight to find Padmé. Her head was tipped down, hands clasped as if in prayer.

Was she worried about the possibility of battle? Far as he knew she was often in the middle of them, same as any other Apprentice. Or was it a fear of failing her first big mission?

Struggling against the force of space being bent, Anakin reached with his hand to grip onto hers. He wanted to only pat them in assurance, but the strength of hyperlight kept him pinned in place. Slowly, she twisted her head, those big doe eyes narrowing at him. Heat prickled up his spine, Anakin’s entire backside growing uncomfortable from not only her glare but how warm and soft her skin was.

Both heaved forward, the ship dropping free into normal space. Anakin quickly snaked his hand away, using both to busy about in the nav data as Padmé took up flying. “Where’s the tracker?” she asked him, making no reference to his sudden need to hold her hand. But her eyes kept flickering over as if she feared he might grab her again. Ha, fat chance.

“Southern continent of the planet, narrowing in for possible entry points.”

“Hm,” she drew up a map and swerved it around. “Lot of foliage, going to make landing tough.”

Anakin smirked, “Trust me, I can handle a few trees.” He reached for the input directly in front of her, when brown eyes burned fire in his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Landing?” he shrugged. “Which is what I thought you wanted.”

“No one asked you to…”

A shot lanced off their aft, the entire ship lurching forward. Sirens blared awake, red flashing across all sensors. “We’ve been pinged,” Padmé cried, her hands laying flat to the controls. The ship quickly rolled into evasive maneuvers while Anakin pored over the data.

“It’s a droid tri-fighter, and it’s firing again!”

Another blast rocketed them forward, sparks shooting from the port-side engine. “Artoo!” Padmé shouted, the droid already rocketing back on its wheels, spraying foam to try and douse the start of fires. “Damn it,” she tried another barrel roll, as if that’d throw off a damn droid fighter ship. “It’s too fast,” she cried. “The second I get into any position to fire, it twists around.”

“Let me do it,” Anakin said, both hands reaching across the controls. The move drew his face mere inches from hers, those big brown eyes staring uncertainly at him. But it wasn’t as if they had a choice. Someone had to man the guns, and someone else had to fly.

“Have you ever flown one of these before?” Padmé asked, as if they had a line of options ahead of them.

“Of course,” Anakin shrugged and she actually rose from the seat. Sliding over fast, he wiggled his spine into the warm chair and lay his hands flat to the controls. In doing so, the edge of his pinkie caught upon the bay doors. New alarms blared through the cabin, begging whoever was in charge to not open them in the middle of a fire. Yanking his hand back, Anakin glanced over his shoulder.

“I thought you said you’ve flown one.” Would it kill her to just lighten up for a second?

“I have,” Anakin insisted, already lighting up the starboard impulse engines and preparing for something special, “and crashed it too.”

“What?”

“Just get up into the gun already, I’ll get you in position,” he waved her off and honed in on the controls. Damn Republic stuff was all push button, there were no sticks to get a feel for the ship under you. Splaying his fingers out, Anakin prepared for his own version of a symphony.

Fingertips danced, striking all the right notes to send their starfighter swirling in a corkscrew. There was no chance for the inertia dampeners to catch up, sending R2-D2 careening back into the wall. It beeped in rage at him, but Anakin laughed. “Wait until we turn around,” he said to the droid, then opened up the link to Padmé. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” was her curt response.

It struck him he never asked if she knew how to use the guns on one of these, but too late now. Jamming both of the heels of his palms down on the console, the ship rose from its drop and rocketed back up. R2 shrieked as it tumbled head over bottomplate through the cabin.

“Coming around…” Anakin kept one eye on the trajectory and another on the droid ship. “Now!” He punched on the aft-burner, the engine sputtering as half of it went up in flames.

Over the sensors, four lines of green spewed forth. The first missed, but the second two ripped straight into one of the ships three pylons. Sparks snagged in the vacuum of space, metal debris ripped free. The droid ship tried to outmaneuver them, but without that third leg it was having a bit of trouble.

The ship wobbled in space, threatening to spin out of control if it wasn’t careful. Padmé’s voice cut over the line, “I can’t hit it at this angle.”

“Okay,” Anakin answered, twisting the ship around, “one more go. Think you can finish it?”

He managed to pivot their fighter, even with the engine sputtering, and lined up straight with the back of the droid tri-fighter. Fingers danced upon the controls waiting for the attack, when Padmé answered, “Yes.” Her voice was as certain as stone and sent a thrill up his spine. Smiling, he punched it, their fighter rocketing directly for the droid ship.

Either she’d blow it to pieces, or they’d tear it apart. Possibly themselves too, but it’d end them either way.

“Anakin?” No doubt she’d done the same calculations and arrived at chastising him.

“Shut up and shoot!” he shouted to her, unable to toggle open the comm line.

“Fine!” The lasers honed in on the very heart of the droid ship. It was trying to spin it around, to get its own weapons back into place, but had a hell of a time. Padmé increased her fire, her voice cutting in and out as she kept repeating, “Die, die, die!” It was said with such certainty Anakin had to laugh.

Cracks began to form through the droid ship’s surface, the metal splintering, fires erupting within the air-filled sections. It wouldn’t be long now. But, his eyes drifted to the readout that was screaming about an imminent crash. It may not be soon enough either.

“Padmé?” he shouted, his finger hovering over the starboard engine.

“One. More. Shot,” her voice crackled, the ship’s defenses pulverizing the droid ship to dust. They were so close, Anakin could see the battledroid’s face, no doubt panicking as it was about to be blasted to atoms.

Turn.

He rammed on the starboard engine, sending their fighter twisting to the right. At that very second, the droid battleship sent off its last hurrah. A solitary red laser ripped through space. It singed their outer hull, but could have exploded their engine if he hadn’t have turned.

That single shot was a final one, all that power ripping apart what had remained of the droid’s ship. As Anakin turned their fighter away, he watched on sensors the cascade reaction of the tri-fighter shattering into a million pieces — its plasma fires instantly dousing once space filled its core.

“Woo hoo!” he heard Padmé shout from above. She quickly slid down the ladder to the gun and ran up behind him. Gripping onto the back of his chair, she said, “That was amazing…”

Two shots ripped straight through their engines, Anakin watching in dismay as the starboard one that just saved their lives tore off the wing and floated away. The aft was screaming, fully out of control with no balance sending the nose of their ship tipped directly towards the planet.

“Where did those come from?” Padmé shouted, focusing on the new droid ships sent to finish them off.

“Little busy here,” Anakin strained against the controls, unable to stop their fighter from entering the atmosphere. Inky black became indigo, then blue, then fluffy pink clouds. This wasn’t good.

A sea of green opened up below them, the forest looking impenetrable and they were coming in on a crash landing. “Anakin, tell me you can land this.”

“Depends on your definition of land,” he gulped, the entire console shuddering under his hands. Padmé glanced once at the sea of foliage under them, then leapt into the passenger seat to buckle in.

Level off. Come on! He tried to yank back on the imaginary stick, at least get the damn nose up, but the aft engine wanted nothing to do with him. Damn it! They weren’t just coming in hot, they were going to bore a hole through the planet’s crust at this speed.

He had to lift it, to slow the damn descent. Anakin closed his eyes.

“We’re gonna crash!” Padmé shouted uselessly. He was doing his best to keep that from happening right now.

Trust. Breathe. Listen.

Slowly, his palms raised off the console. In the darkening distance, he could feel Padmé shouting at him but it faded. All of Anakin’s focus was upon the gravity wrapped around their ship’s nose. A force that, just like all in the galaxy, could be bent. Inverted.

A breath released from his lungs and he raised the ship up. The nose began to level out, branches bouncing into the hull trying to shatter his concentration. Keep it going. Just a bit further. There was a break ahead. Something that could cushion their landing.

“It’s evening out,” Padmé announced.

Anakin’s hands lowered to the controls, even though the engines were useless. A smile raised upon his cheeks, his head turning to his fellow Jedi when a flash of green broke through their windshield. He barely turned to spy the massive tree filling their view just as the ship smashed nose first into it.

Darkness beat about his head, shrieks filled his ears, something warm dripped from his forehead, and then silence.


	7. Traitors

Obi-Wan gave one more pass over the parked fighter, making certain it was locked. Last thing they needed was anyone making off with council property, especially if the rumors were accurate. He caught the bemused eye of Lan’vass and shrugged.

“Better safe, I always say.”

“You do?” She laughed, a light sheen breaking across her cheeks. “That must be fairly recent compared to the old Apprentice I once knew.”

Kenobi chuckled to himself remembering far too well the chase that ended in the two of them leaping over a waterfall with seemingly no end in sight. “Some days I think that was a different man entirely.”

Lan’vass’ lips stretched from her pursed smile into a wide one, “Giving merit to the reports about you and your new apprentice, the Obi-Wan I remember hasn’t gone far.” Her golden eyes trailed up and down Kenobi’s robed form, bringing a stutter to his steps.

To distract from the blush, he grabbed onto the mention of his apprentice instead. “I pray Anakin is handling himself.”

“Padmé shall keep him in line,” she assured him.

No doubt the girl would keep a tight leash upon Anakin, their differences guaranteed to heat to an argument. But Obi-Wan knew what such tight quarters on a mission could lead to. He’d nearly trailed down that fraught path in his past on numerous occasions. For a beat, his eye caught not the measured wise one of Master Lan’vass, but the erratic and excitable look of an old apprentice he once knew.

Tipping his head down, Kenobi locked away any of those old memories that danced through his dreams at night. “That is what I fear,” he confessed in a shallow whisper as the pair stepped before the Naboo royal guards who finally came to investigate the commotion.

“State your business,” the first began, his red armor more decorated than the other faceless guards behind. Probably a captain.

“We have an urgent message for the Queen,” Obi-Wan said.

“From who?” The guard captain wasn’t in the mood to give an inch. He knew this would be trouble, even getting clearance to land here was a challenge and required some _convincing_. Lifting his hand, he rolled the force to his whims, his will becoming power.

Lan’vass curled her fingers to his shoulder and she smiled to the captain, “On order of the Jedi Council.”

“Jedis!” the captain hissed as if they were covered in lice. “Who was foolish enough to let you land here? You’re not wanted. Leave these premises and this planet before we have to forcibly remove you.”

“Some greeting for the heroes who rescued your Queen from the Federation,” Obi-Wan snickered, his hands folded into his sleeves.

The captain’s beady eyes swung over, the man rising up higher on his toes. “Galactic matters, Republic bullshit spilled over to our planet. Have you any idea how many died in that fight? How much damage was done to our cities, our relics, our history? And what does the Council care? Screams, ‘we don’t interfere’ as people starve.”

Kenobi sighed, and with a light touch drew his lightsaber. He didn’t arm it, simply drew all eyes to the threat. Quite a few guards watched, their ceremonial spears trembling in their own wayward grip. “We asked…”

Once again, Lan’vass gripped tighter to his shoulder, cutting off his thoughts. “If you would be so kind as to contact your Queen for us, we would be grateful. The Senate will have forwarded our request ahead of us.” When the guard captain wouldn’t move, she added in a colder tone. “If you turn us away, and what we’ve come to portend comes to be, how happy do you think your Queen shall be with you?”

Scowling, the man finally stomped off towards a communique console, though he left the mass of his own guards behind to keep watch on two lone Jedi. Lan’vass kept her cool, one of her thin eyebrows slightly perched. But she whispered to Obi-Wan, who hid away his saber, “Seems that arrogant youth I knew hasn’t gone far after all.”

He shrugged, “Better to get the job done and offer apologies for toes trod on than waste time and lives while asking for permission.”

“No wonder Skywalker is the way he is,” she said cryptically, drawing Kenobi to turn to her.

“Fine, yes, understood,” the guard captain spat into the console. Boots stomped towards them, his lips in a concrete snarl as he spat, “The Queen is expecting you. This way.”

Lan’vass folded her arms together and nodded, “Thank you for your patience.”

“You’re…” the captain snarled without thought, then he frowned. “If you try anything!” He had to give out a single limp warning as all his power was stolen out from under him.

Falling in behind Lan’vass, Obi-Wan muttered to himself, “You will all fall.”

The two seasoned Jedi fell silent as the grumbling captain led them through the palace’s crisscrossing inner-workings. It was no wonder the Separatists required someone on the inside, the entire structure was built as a maze. Often, the captain would have to twist what seemed an impassable wall, allowing himself entry into a new hallway. By the time they finally reached an echoing chamber, Obi-Wan was fully turned around.

He glanced over at Lan’vass and noticed her eyes were closed and her hand wafting ahead of them. Smirking at the woman who made a map in her mind, he focused through the parting doors upon the throne room of Naboo. All light beamed on the chair resting upon a high dais, every window lining the vaulted ceiling of the chambers a different color so when the rainbow landed upon their Queen it converged to became pure white.

Fountains gurgled on the sides, but these were no centerpieces to adorn the decor. Stairs of marble led up to the lip, chairs positioned inside to allow water to land upon the gungan delegates who would be seated there. For the rest there were benches of varying size leading up to the real focal point of the room. Queen Amidala was dressed in her full royal makeup, bone white with red highlighting the lips, eyes, and trailing like ribbons against her cheeks. Her hair was braided and pinned in three spirals around her head.

Even knowing the lineage, Obi-Wan could see no resemblance when he looked upon the woman before them. The shadows of her paint shifted the fall of the cheekbones even higher, elongated the tiny nose to impress, and shortened the lips. It was the greatest visual cue of power on this planet, and seemed to be doing little to sway the one man she was in council with.

“Your Majesty,” the tall man in swooping black robes continued on, his baritone voice rumbling over the empty seats. “If I may but take another moment of your time…?”

“You have had nearly all of it for an hour already, Count Dooku,” the Queen retorted, her perfumed and white-painted hand rising from her scaffolded dress. It was a nearly perfect replica of the dome upon one of the larger buildings in the capitol city. Obi-Wan wondered how she could get anywhere in her regalia, but when they were under fire she’d managed just fine on her own.

“I am…” Dooku said, before turning his age-spotted visage to the pair of Jedi leaving not a sound as they walked over the marble floors. “You have guests,” he changed tactics.

“Master Dooku,” Lan’vass said, bowing her head.

“Please, I abandoned that title when I left the order. I do not deserve to wear it,” he humbly responded.

“Because Count is not a lofty title by any means,” Obi-Wan shot back, his hackles raising. He could not wrap his mind around anyone leaving the Order, much less someone as talented as Dooku. Especially for him to turn and join with the traitors.

Those aging eyes narrowed, honing upon the Jedi that dared speak in his presence. “Kenobi,” he laughed the name after a thought, “Were you not apprenticed to Master Quigon? Messy business that.”

“A man who lost his life to those very same traitors you now serve…” Obi-Wan stepped forward, aching to challenge Count Dooku, but he was wise enough to keep his weapon well sheathed in the presence of the Queen.

The ex-Jedi chortled to himself, “Traitor can so easily be twisted into liberator depending upon who has the neck and who the boot trodding upon it. But I am not here to match wits with anyone, only to observe the coming vote on Naboo.”

“To tip it in your favor,” Obi-Wan sneered.

“To make certain it is not interfered with. Jedi are known for placing their thumb upon the scales of justice when it serves them. To do so now… Well, it wouldn’t help your waning reputation.”

“You…” He tried to take a step for him, when Lan’vass lashed her hand out before his stomach and trapped him in place.

Her words were as soft as the bubbling fountains, eyes drifting around the room seemingly without a care, “Will your remaining upon the planet not also interfere with the vote?”

“Once I am assured that whatever decision the people make shall be upheld by the Queen, then I will retire to other Separatist business.” Dooku focused once upon Lan’vass then turned to Amidala.

She’d grown well in the time since Obi-Wan and his dear Master rescued her from a Federation plot. Barely even nineteen then, the Queen was battling both a buckling government calling for her abdication and outside forces planning to take her head. Now, nearly thirty, she ruled as if she’d been doing this for sixty years. Even the Jedi couldn’t read the thoughts upon her painted face.

“I am the ruler of the people of Naboo,” Amidala said. “And as such, I will do what is best for them.”

“Forgive my bluntness, your majesty,” Dooku spoke, “but your…fervid faith in the Jedi is well known, as well as all the reasons they have you trapped in their good graces.”

She whipped her head to Dooku, fire burning in her eyes. “My faith, as you so put it, is in my people. This crown has already been threatened once in my lifetime. It shall not happen again. The vote will occur without interference from either the Separatists or the Republic. Naboo will decide its own future.”

A smile twisted around Dooku’s thin lips. He rose up to his full height from a bow and he tapped his fingers together. “Precisely what I hoped to hear, your Majesty.”

“Please leave us, Count. I have matters to discuss with the Jedi.”

“Of course,” he sidled back, both hands placed behind his spine as he walked towards the doors without a care. Before slipping out of them, he called to Lan’vass, “Oh, and please give Yoda my regards. I pray I shall be seeing him soon.”

With that final dig, the Count left their presence. Obi-Wan took in a deep breath, trying to shake away the cloud perched upon his brow. The force clung to his flesh like sweat in a humid swamp.

“Obi-Wan,” Amidala smiled perhaps her first one in years upon him. He bowed to her as she continued, “It has been some time.”

“I fear we do not grow any younger,” he admitted.

“Yes, I noticed that beard of yours,” she laughed, pointing to his cheeks, before turning to the other Jedi in the room. “And Master Lan’vass. I cannot help but notice that you are without my…your apprentice.”

“The council did not think it…wise to send her given the precarious state of the planet.”

Amidala sighed, her headdress bobbing as if she expected such an answer. “So that is your true reason for visiting. The same as Dooku’s. You wish to sway Naboo.”

“You cannot seriously be thinking of leaving the Republic,” Obi-Wan spoke up. It was preposterous to imagine. As asinine as Corsucant giving in to the Separatists honeyed poison.

The Queen tipped her chin, “There are many who decry the Republics use of resources. How often the credits seem to flow up, leaving many planets in a lurch. How easy it is to buy a senator, the entire structure gridlocked in never ending bickering.”

“And you think the Separatists would be any better? They nearly killed you!”

“There was no proof of their involvement with the Federation,” she repeated the same lie Dooku and the rest spun whenever the truth was brought up.

Obi-Wan snorted, “You cannot honestly believe that.”

“Master Kenobi,” Lan’vass snapped at him, bringing him around to glare at her. “We are not here to interfere in galactic politics. Your Highness, in truth, the Jedi would have allowed Naboo to make its choice alone without a visit, but we have recently received information that threatens the peace of this planet.”

Amidala raised her head higher, the beads upon her headdress jangling in response, “This should be good.”

“There will be an attack upon your very life.”

At that the Queen snorted, “What, again?”

Lan’vass sighed, “This attempt has more veracity than prior events. Our information comes from a gungan by the name of Junn La.”

“Junn La?” the Queen repeated, her eyes flaring in surprise. “But he…he vanished some time ago.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan interrupted, “to sell all the security codes and clearance to the Separatists. Which is why we are here now, to protect you from an assassination attempt that could very well succeed thanks to him.”

Silence pervaded the room, Amidala placing one hand overtop another as she took in a long, slow breath. Strange to think this was the same girl who’d hidden in the cargo container on their ship as they tried to ferret her to safety. She’d nearly had a panic attack from the close quarters, Obi-Wan having to keep her calm. Now, she looked as if nothing could chip away at her marble veneer.

“You come to me, on the eve of Naboo’s vote to leave the Republic, exclaiming that the Separatists have an assassination plot against me. And only the Jedi can stop it.” Her eyes darted from Obi-Wan to Lan’vass. “Do you have any idea how many would find this rather convenient and suspect? Where is Junn La? Why does he not speak for himself?”

“He…” Lan’vass shifted on her toes, the Jedi sharing a look. Neither thought to bring him because they didn’t consider for a moment their word wouldn’t be enough. “He does not think it his place to ever return to Naboo.”

“No, he does not want to be branded a traitor and suffer the consequences. I imagine the Jedi have him set up rather nicely right now. Better than any he could have sold secrets to would.”

The Queen lifted the hips of her dress, solid silver shoes darting down the steps. Both Obi-Wan and Lan’vass stared at each other, uncertain what to do as the monarch began to pace down her own empty throne room.

As the tips of her fingers glanced against the pews, she spoke, “In two days, this palace will fill with every important delegate from across Naboo. There will be arguments, there will be debate, and there will be a vote.”

Amidala paused, her dress falling to the floor as she stared up at a symbol of Naboo’s strength and resilience carved over the door. “It is not that I doubt your veracity.” The Queen turned and from below the pancake makeup he found that fresh-faced girl shaking at the bottom of a cargo container. “Obi-Wan, you proved a friend when the crown thought all were lost. And Lan’vass, into your hands we placed our most precious of resources.”

The two Jedi nervously glanced to the other. Lan’vass twisted her leg around, trying to get it under control while Obi-Wan once again thought back to Anakin. May the Force guide and protect him, and keep him from doing anything stupid.

“But,” Amidala’s voice rose to echo over every stone in the throne room, “I cannot halt this vote. Nor can I sequester myself away under the assumed threat from some would-be assassin.”

“Your Majesty,” Obi-Wan began, trying to reach for her.

“If any were to learn of this, either the idea of the Separatists sending an assassin, or the Jedi attempting to save me, it would be viewed as interference. It could throw the entire planet into the middle of a conflict between both the Republic and CNS. One which we couldn’t hope to survive.”

Lan’vass took a single step towards her, her head raising, “What do you wish us to do?”

“You are not my people, I cannot command you. But I do believe the Jedi are honorable, and — if there is a threat upon my life — you would be kind enough to shield me.”

It was dangerous. There would be no bait, no stand-in handmaidens to confuse the assassins. She would risk herself for the sake of fairness. Obi-Wan glanced toward Lan’vass, his palms itching and a burning node forming in the back of his head. Everything told him this wasn’t wise, but also that they had no choice.

“Now then,” Amidala announced, “if we are finished, I believe dinner is being served. I’m certain you have some tales to entertain me and my guests.”

Lan’vass was the one to step forward, her arm slotting with the Queen’s. “I would be delighted, your Majesty.” As the Jedi guided Amidala out towards yet another winding hallway, Obi-Wan glanced up at the mass of windows any assassin could shoot out. Over the pews that would hold hundreds of people where a murderer could blend in. And finally behind the throne itself, the seat of power that felt as if it was wobbling upon a knife’s edge.

Sighing from the bottom of his gut, he said, “I have a bad feeling about this.”


	8. Needles

Her vision swam, Padmé’s head aching as her eyes seemed washed in water. Pain struck her temple and, as she reached for it, she realized her body was hanging upside down. The safety straps pinned her in tight to the chair, which was nearly ripped clean off of the floor of the starfighter. Some of its roof was dug into the mud below, the rest was unaccounted for.

Groaning, she fumbled for the release. Her fingers batted against a sprig of leaves before finding the button. As she fell, she righted herself, landing with her legs spread and one hand upon the ripped-free bulkheads for balance. While trying to massage away the massive headache, she looked around and realized what else was missing: the entire left side of the ship.

“Anakin?” she shouted, birds of iridescent colors taking wing. Their shadows hid away the dash of pink sun in the air before the wafting tree-tops filled their place instead. They crash-landed on some alien forest and she had no damn idea how to find the idiot that caused it.

Digging a hand to her side, Padmé bumped into her lightsaber. At least she could clear a path until finding civilization. “Anakin? Where are you?”

 _What if she was alone?_ The Council knew of her whereabouts but she’d have to decide whether to attempt the mission solo or find a means to get a message out. Climbing up the ripped apart bulkhead that shattered through a tree, Padmé stared out across an unforgiving jungle.

Green and yellow coated the landscape, the color so vibrant it flashed against her eyes even when they were closed. Trees with trunks of knots rose from the uneven ground to shadow away the sunlight. She thought she spotted a sign of a river or lake in the distance, its surface glimmering steel through the path of green. The humidity clung like leeches, already transforming her flesh into a swamp as she struggled to breathe under the heavy Jedi robes. Still, she’d rather have them for protection from the elements.

What all did she know of this planet? There were dangers, of a sort, but…

“Oh,” a gasp broke not from in front but behind her. Padmé turned on her vantage point to spy a shaggy brown head emerging from a hole in the ground. As the light honed in on crimson dashed against his face, she leapt down to him.

“That’s one way to stop,” Anakin complained, a hand cupping his back as he tried to stand up straighter.

Reaching through the swampy air, Padmé pressed upon his chin. The tips of her fingers darted near the bottom swipe of blood, her eyes trying to dig up the injury. She couldn’t see anything under the cracking scarlet except his skin still in pristine condition. It wasn’t until she jerked his head to the side, that Padmé felt his eye hone to her.

Very close to her.

“What are you doing?”

She released him, her hand absently wiping away the mess on her thigh. “You’re injured. There’s blood. I was trying to…to…”

That cursed smile rose upon his lips, “Trying to help me? That’s sweet.”

“It is not ‘sweet,’ it is protocol and a matter of survival.”

He rolled his eyes and snickered, “Whatever you say, Prin…” He stuck out his tongue and bit down on it, as if having to chastise himself. “Anyway, the blood’s not from my head but here,” Anakin lifted up his arm to reveal a gash near his right wrist. “Flimsy console ripped apart in the landing and tried to take my hand with it.”

It seemed to have ceased bleeding, though it’d need to be disinfected and cleaned. Bandaged to protect it from any mold and…what did she care? It was his problem.

Crossing her arms, Padmé huffed, “You think calling it a landing will make it so?”

“We’re on the land,” he waved his arms around the ripped apart ship. “I’d say that’s close enough.”

Her eyes narrowed, Padmé rubbing a finger over her bottom lip. She froze in her old tell, realizing that she nearly placed Anakin’s blood in her mouth on accident. Scoffing, she turned from him to stare at the unforgiving forest. “I thought your talents were all in flying. If that’s how you manage, I can’t understand why everyone cheers about your pod-racing skills.”

She expected him to laugh, prod back. Waft his ego around like a flag. But Anakin drew insular, his eyes skirting through the ripped up wreckage. “If I flew the fighter the way most did a pod in those races neither of us would have walked away.”

“What…?” She turned to him, fully lost, when a pair of rattling beeps emerged from the fuselage. “Artoo!” Her eyes lit up, Padmé dropping to the droid rolling over the mess of debris.

“And the droid made it too. Wonderful. Let’s celebrate our victory,” Anakin pouted as if he really hoped for someone to perish in his crash.

Buffing a hand over R2’s head, she asked the droid, “Is that better? Can you see now?”

It beeped and whistled, shaking back and forth on its legs before turning all of its venom upon Anakin. Snickering, Padmé wrapped an arm around the droid. “I agree, this is all his doing.”

“Mine?” Anakin slapped his chest in surprise. “Perhaps you missed the droid ships shooting at us. The ones I narrowly avoided, by the way.”

Padmé flinched, cursing to herself. The droid ships would be hunting for them either to confirm the kill or finish the job. “We have to move,” she said, quickly reaching for any supplies they might need. The cockpit was ripped to shreds, but she found a small first-aid kit locked on the wall that had been beside the pilot seat. Without thought, she threw that at Anakin.

“We need to find Hoss,” he said, catching the box but staring down at it in confusion.

“No, what we need is to find shelter and fast.” She dug deeper into the wires of the ripped up console, hunting for one piece in particular. “Artoo? Can you solder this?”

The droid happily shot out sparks, burning together two wires to create a circuit. Hopefully that could hold out for the time being. Padmé rose from her haunches and caught Anakin’s disbelieving eye.

“There are ships up there with sensors, hunting for two Jedi they just downed on a Separatist’s planet. If we don’t vanish, we don’t even get close to Hoss. Understand?”

Anakin snorted, “Let them come. We’ll just…” He reached for his lightsaber at his hip, but in doing so bashed the blood-soaked injury instead. Cursing and gasping through the pain, when he caught Padmé’s exhausted expression he capitulated. “Fine, we’ll do it your way, princess.”

“For all that is…” She kicked into the open bulkhead, sealing it shut and hopefully killing any distress signal dead. While she wanted the Council to find them, it was far more likely to pull the droids in instead. Hitching her robes up higher to avoid the grab of bracken at their feet, Padmé set off towards the east with Artoo at her side.

She thought the decision final, when Anakin’s voice rang out, “Do you even know where you’re going?”

Snarling, she spun towards him and hissed, “Yes, away. We must leave the ship in any manner possible. Why is this so hard for you to comprehend? Why are you incapable of listening?”

He stared at her the way a roasted fish would glance up from the plate. Not wanting to fall into whatever smug answer he had, her eyes were drawn to his injured hand high above his head. “What are you…?” she asked, pointing to it.

“Bleeding again,” Anakin shrugged as if that was a perfectly normal choice to wave a bleeding limb above your head.

Padmé lashed over grabbing both his fist and the med-kit. Placing the box upon R2’s head, she quickly unearthed a spray to numb and sterilize his skin, then wound a bandage over the mess. As the bright blue and black sticky tape covered his arm, she sighed, “This is how to properly set and prepare a wound. Which you would know if you read…well anything.”

“Did it ever occur to you that,” Anakin began, his voice in that particular range of whine that set her teeth on edge. When he didn’t finish his thought, she looked up from her work to find his crystal blue eyes barely a breath away. His lips hung slack as if he was trying to memorize her face. The Force sparkled around them, throbbing like a heartbeat to remind her of the warmth of his hand, the flush of adrenaline in their bodies, and how soft his skin was.

A loud beep and pop from Artoo snapped Padmé back into business. Anakin snarled, tugging his bandaged hand from her grip to rifle through his hair. “Never mind. You’re the boss. So lead on, boss.”

“Yes,” she said, stuffing the small med-kit into her pocket. With R2-D2 at her side, she began to strike out towards the water source. “I am in charge, and don’t you forget.”

“Believe me, there’s no chance of that ever happening.”

 

* * *

 

It could have been worse. The moment the thought drifted through Anakin’s mind he cranked his head back, anticipating a deluge out of that pink and purple sky. Luckily, it remained stoically dry — well as dry as 95% humidity could.

“Gah!” He lashed out to slap at another nest of gnat-like bugs chewing on his flesh. The bandage rebounded against his shoulder, mostly deadening the injury from impact. A buzzing noise drew him to glance down at the droid. It had its little electro-socket out and was zapping all the insects in the area.

“Hey,” Anakin nudged his toe into the droid, “any chance you can turn into a vehicle and drive us out of here?”

The zapper spun back to him, crackling through the air as a threat, but he waved it away. He’d only meant to shake the droid off of him, but the force rolled around his fist and sent the zapper careening back inside. It was so strong R2 spun on its axis and nearly bashed into the back of Padmé’s heels.

Anakin winced, expecting a snarl from his leader, but when she turned it was only a wary eye that drifted up and down him. Of course she looked primed for stomping around in this muck. Downed trees, piles of rotting vegetation, nearly losing R2 in a mud puddle. He didn’t consider it much of a loss, but she seemed to think they needed the droid around. It was less than pleased with Anakin’s attempts to clean it off with a kick towards a stream.

That glowing eye spun towards him, narrowing the iris in a threat, but he chuckled. “I haven’t forgotten what you did, either. Believe me.”

Another illustrious sigh broke from the petite brunette ahead. It was almost hilarious to glance down a line of Jedi and find Padmé standing there, barely coming to most’s chests. She was like those fawns on that moon, they stumbled across an entire nest of them one time. Spindly limbs and big brown eyes — they glowed when leaping into the sunline nearly blinding him in the process. Sounded an awful lot like…

“Anakin,” she snapped, causing him to scowl. “Could you please stop picking on Artoo?”

“I suppose, assuming it is willing to stop as well.”

The droid beeped, clearly signaling it didn’t think it’d done anything wrong. “Oh, right. And who was it that snuck onboard even after I explicitly told you to…”

He felt those condescending doe eyes burning through the back of his skull. Anakin spun to stare at Padmé only to realize he had to look up. He’d somehow taken a knee to bicker with the droid. Feeling a fool for it, he leapt up to his feet and noticed the mud of this godforsaken planet now climbed clear up to his thighs.

“I am surprised at you,” she said. Her green saber shot out in a quick burst, slicing through a mess of saplings in their path. As the charred wood tumbled to the side, Padmé shoved on it with her palm and kept walking.

“Do you intend to finish that thought or is it just an overall level of confusion about me?”

She snorted at that, her eyes beginning the ascent but they drifted back down. “You brag about every damn thing you do, every breath you take to those around you, but when it comes to the one accomplishment that snagged not only a Master Jedi’s attention but assisted them, you clam up.”

Scowling, Anakin burrowed deeper into his robes, his hands hiding away in the sleeves. “I am not a braggart.”

“How many bounty hunters did you cross when attempting to retrieve the Anderon Jewels?”

“Sev—”

“Seven,” Padmé spoke over him, a hand to her hip. Smug princess who thinks she knows everything. Well, if that were true she wouldn’t need to be bothering him about his past.

“It’s not a story worth telling,” Anakin said darkly, stepping past her into a rising thicket of unending skinny trees. Would this forest never cease?

“Every padawan brags about what they did to first catch the council’s eye. Often. We all know yours…”

“No,” he snapped, his eyes blazing into hers, “no, you don’t. You know what…” Shaking away the spool of anger and shame in his gut, Anakin focused on the horizon ahead. “Forget it. We’re here to find Hoss.”

His injured hand curled tight, the tug of his flesh straining over the bared knuckles reassuring him, soothing him. This would be over soon. That bastard wouldn’t get away this time.

“Truly,” she kept on, seemingly entertained with her little captive, “there is more to a random child found on some dirt planet who won a pod-race and helped both Quigon and Obi-Wan to save Naboo from the evil clutches of the Federation?”

“What do you care?” Anakin turned back at her. “And what’s with you and Naboo? It’s one stupid planet in a galaxy of them, but you can’t stop staring at the hologram of it. Cannot cease pinging Master Lan’vass as if she and Kenobi aren’t busy. Must you prod your nose into everyone’s business?”

“It’s…” Padmé quieted instantly, her lip trembling as she eyed him up. That cocksure attitude of hers evaporated even in this humidity, leaving only a scarred blankness behind. “I only…”

“Forget it,” Anakin waved it all away, regret stinging him in the gut. He didn’t mean to hurt her, just get her to shut up already. Though, everyone knew that was impossible when Padmé Amidala had notes on how things were properly done. She’d chew your ear off until it was just a nub.

Grabbing onto a downed tree branch blocking the path, Anakin hefted it up high above his head. He jerked his chin, telling her to get under it. For a beat she stood alone in the fronds of the forest, arms cinched to her chest as if he’d ripped her heart out. “Look, it’s just…” Anakin began, his eyes darting everywhere but the person listening in.

The clouds were beginning to settle in above, hiding away even more of their waning daylight. Focusing on that, he said, “I didn’t have a choice in that race. In any of them. Slave kids are tiny, bone and sinew mostly, which cuts down on the weight. So…they race us. Even if our hands are too small, even if we can barely reach the pedals. Even if we can’t fly.”

If he closed his eyes he could still smell it: the burning blackness of fuel, the stench twang of the leaking oil, and that moldy cheese body odor of the bastard who owned him. “Lot of ‘em only knew one way out.”

“Winning?” Padmé asked.

“Nah,” Anakin shook his head, “crashing so fast there’s nothing to be pulled from the wreckage. It doesn’t matter. As you said, got me into the Jedis, here I am on this forsaken rock with you. I’m struggling to find the upside to it, but it must be in there somewhere.”

With that last bit of snark, her wide, tearful eyes shrouded back to the cold princess he knew and despised. She finally threw back her braid over her shoulder and strutted under his arms with a huff. Sighing, Anakin moved to slip under himself when R2-D2 rolled right over both of his feet.

“You…!” He began, but the droid merely swiveled its head and glared at him. “Give me strength,” Anakin muttered to himself, letting go of the branch as he ducked his way in to follow them.

The thicket fell to even greater darkness, these trees forming a canopy of rail thin leaves. At this angle they looked more like bones. Arm and leg bones stretched clear across the sky and dangling from the branches. Cheery thought to go along with a cheery place.

“Where precisely are we going?” he asked. Anakin stopped pointing out that they hadn’t seen sight of a droid dropship in the past three miles. It didn’t seem worth digging into the wound. Though, in truth, he had no idea what they should do. The ship was in pieces, their circuitry fried. Even remaining by it hoping for rescue was pointless on a Separatist planet.

“High ground,” Padmé answered. “As is…”

“Protocol,” he rolled his hand around, “yeah, yeah. Is there anything you do that isn’t Jedi protocol?”

“No,” she answered so fast Anakin laughed. “Why would I? This is the Order, the rules of the Order. We must…”

“Obey blindly and without thought?”

“I did not say that,” that deadly cross resumed, blocking off her chest as if he cared to view it.

Anakin bowed to her, his head skimming closer to the ground in doing so. Steps light, he darted further into the thicket away from her even while keeping his eyes upon the fuming apprentice, “Yes, Master. No, Master. How high, Master? Sounds rather familiar.”

“And you’d rather, what? Do whatever you wish whenever you wish?”

“No!” Anakin snapped back instantly. He knew Sith-talk when he heard it. Hadn’t even thought of such a thing. To turn to the darkside, to only give in to one’s wild ego was…unthinkable. His quick answer seemed to appease the ruffled Padmé, her cross actually breaking.

“But there is a fine line between dutiful Jedi and eternal kiss…” His back bounced into something hard. And sharp. And warm.

The entire forest shifted, shadows breaking as whatever graced Anakin’s backside was rising to its feet. Light glinted through the shrouded trees upon claws easily a man long. Three each upon the paws stretching through the air. Beady black eyes graced a pinched in face, placed so far apart the creature kept swiveling its long nose back and forth to spot them.

But what froze Anakin’s tongue were the unending multitude of spines stabbing out of the creature’s flesh. As it reached to its massive fifteen foot height, the quills shivered. Silver as mercury, each one shone like a minnow in a river as the thing shook off whatever forest was clinging to it. With a low growl, it snapped all of the quills outward, each one ready to stab into anything within a 360˚ radius of the creature.

“An Ihla!” Padmé shouted.

“A what?”

Her answer didn’t come, not that it mattered, as the massive creature swung a fist the size of a tree trunk towards them. Padmé and Anakin rolled apart, both drawing their lightsabers through the wicking forest air. His sizzled in his hands, burning hotter with each swipe of clinging moisture and drilling into his injury. Perfect.

“Padmé!” Anakin shouted, watching the beast turn towards her. Lashing his arm back, he ran full bore at the creature.

Its long claws reared up, ready to knock her know-it-all head clean off her shoulders. While he held her saber at the ready, it was to him she shouted, “Anakin, wait!”

Ignoring her misplaced concern, he leapt into he air and whipped his lightsaber blade around. It should have sliced clear through the mass of quills, scattered them like the thicket, and allowed him to pierce through to the monster’s spine. But when the blade struck the metal spines, his weapon shrieked a whine. The plasma of the blade erupted into a million different directions, some of them pinging back towards Anakin.

He tried to course correct, his hand raising up to block the attack while silencing his lightsaber. Sadly, he wasn’t fast enough, a few sparks igniting upon his robes. As he twisted mid-air, landing behind Padmé, Anakin tried to beat away the smoke burning off his shoulders and chest.

With both her hands enveloped around his only weapon, her eyes burning into the Ihla, Padmé needlessly said, “Lightsabers bounce off their quills.”

“Yeah, I caught that part,” Anakin hissed. The creature lunged for them, the claws swiping to pierce Padmé’s face. She twisted to the side and moved to slam her blade down to cut one off, but the creature was faster. Its quills whipped around into place. At the last second she withdrew her attack, nearly wrenching her shoulder in the process.

“How do we kill this thing?” Anakin shouted. He spotted the cocksure droid rolling closer, its little zapper out as if it could hurt something this huge.

Padmé wafted for the grabby hands that wanted to rip her in half, making it known she wasn’t without strength, but her legs kept backing up. “The belly. It’s not protected by the spines. We have to pierce it!”

“Great,” Anakin shouted, trying to draw the Ihla’s attention. He misjudged in his swing, sending sparks shooting out into the forest itself. “How do you propose we get at it?” The damn thing was hidden behind not only its puffed out quills, but those nasty claws as well. “Not as if we can…”

Both Jedi turned to gaze up at the trees directly overhead. Anakin caught Padmé’s eye. Her mouth opened, but he interrupted, “I’m faster.” She scowled at that, but resumed her stance of keeping the creature distracted. Slipping the lightsaber into his pocket, Anakin dug a foot into the bark of the tree and leaped high into the air. His second foot caught six feet above the first, the force buoying him up into this unforgiving forest.

Below, he watched Padmé stumble from the attack. She had to take a swing at its paw or risk disemboweling, her blade striking through the tips of the quills. A line of fire ricocheted back to her, burning through her cheek. The droid took great offense at her gasping in pain, screaming as it rolled forward. But there was nowhere for R2 to strike, its body bouncing into the unending mass of quills.

Reaching the top of the tree, Anakin gripped onto the bark with one hand, lit up his saber and sliced halfway through the massive trunk. The entire top covered in full leaves began to sway. “Padmé!” he shouted, not having time to glance down. He had to trust she’d lure the thing close.

Coiling his feet under him, Anakin leapt into the air. With one foot he lashed at the half-broken trunk, sending it tumbling to the ground below. The other barely caught upon the remaining bit of tree, his body bouncing for a long fall onto those metal spikes below.

“Whoa!” he cried, wafting his hands around and watching as the tree picked up speed in its tumble straight onto the Ilha’s cranium. Anakin heard the smash, his eyes peeking down through the hole in the canopy just as the creature roared in agony. It tried to slink back at first, fearing more, before standing higher and swiping for the monkey that threw a stick at it.

That was Anakin’s cue to disembark. Leaping to the side, he twisted into a dive. The Ilfa’s claws ripped into the bark, hacking and slashing as it didn’t realize the Jedi was fast on his way to the ground. Driving his lightsaber forward, Anakin dug it directly into the heart of a tree. It slowed his descent, allowing him to land with minimal fuss upon his toes.

Just as he struck the leafy refuse below, he spotted Padmé rushing forward into the forest of quills. Anakin’s heart constricted, watching her saber glow green though the metal skewers. But when she crowed, her hand slashing forward, it was the Ilha that screamed in agony. It tumbled back in pain into a massive tree, shattering the canopy above them.

Padmé lined up for another shot, no doubt the one to split it clean open, when Anakin spotted it. The trunk the creature’d been ripping apart started to fall…right for her head. Shouting, he ran forward, his hand raised. Her eyes darted to him, confused. There was no time to explain.

The Force rose to greet him, happy to hurl Padmé back off her feet. Perhaps a bit too hard as her spine struck the tree. A snarl broke, no doubt she was preparing to tell him off, when the loud crack of the hacked apart trunk splattered where she’d just been. Those vengeful eyes opened wide in both shock and he’d like to pretend gratefulness. Until he heard her scowl, “Why didn’t you move the damn trunk instead?”

That…was a good question. Damn it.

“I nearly had it, and…” Her eyes grew bigger, her jaw falling slack as she stared up at the Ilha. It hadn’t run away, but it turned its back to them, the quills rising up higher in all directions. “Anakin! We have to run!”

“What? Why?” They’d already gotten it once, they could do it again.

Padmé whipped her lightsaber up as if it could help, her stance lowering towards the center of gravity. In a voice that shook his spine, she shouted, “Those quills can be fired!”

“Oh sh—” Anakin shouted, his eyes catching the glint of a million murderous needles waiting to pierce their flesh. There was nowhere they could run. They couldn’t block them. What could he…?

All thought vanished from his brain, only survival pulsing through. Padmé scrunched up tighter, her legs blocking the droid as the Ilha gasped out a guttural groan. Anakin leapt into the air, his eyes not leaving the oncoming storm for a moment. Through the air came the needles, shredding apart anything in their way. Leaves, branches, whole trees — nothing could stop them. And directly in the path of the thousands was Padmé.

He landed right before her and his hand snapped out.

Stop.

The Force pulsed back from him, spreading from the life-giving crust of the planet up to the canopies of the trees. He couldn’t see the needles, nor the Ilha. Anakin’s eyes split right through all of that flesh and bone to the spark nestled within, the flow of light into dark. He could feel it, read it in a language that fed his brain more than any book ever did. The nodes of life itself stretched out beyond him. From the slow trees to the lightning quick insects below, past the Ilha’s red haze further out. The planet itself was in agony.

Something. There was a presence within it. Hidden. Angering it to the point of…

“Anakin,” a hand grabbed onto his shoulder, shattering the illusion. His eyes snapped back to the millions of needles hanging in the air before them. They glittered like stars in hyperlight, stretching clear up into the trees. He gulped at the enormity, when his mind flinched. A pocket formed and a handful of the stars shot straight through. A scream broke the silence of the forest.

“No!” he cried, twisting around from his hold. Pain seized up his heart, terrified to find Padmé bleeding to death on the floor. She had a hand to her shoulder and sneered, but was standing.

“Anakin, can you hold that?”

Slowly, he shook his head, the throbbing increasing across his brain. It was no headache, this felt as if a womprat burrowed into his ear and nested in his skull. Tiny claws dug whenever they felt like. Thinking of the pain drew him away from the Force, from the light. With a great pop, his hand fell and along with it a thousand of the needles. They tinkled in their collapse, sounding of bells on a holy site instead of near-death in a forest.

“No,” he tried to laugh, struggling to shake off the impact upon him. But it wasn’t as if the Ilha had anymore on it… Which was when the creature turned, dropped onto all fours and roared to display its bone-splintering teeth.

“Run,” Padmé grabbed onto his arm. “Run!”

The took off, both having no clear idea for where they were going. She had one hand cushioning her shoulder where the quills stuck deep, the other trying to slice apart any branches on the way. Rolling beside her came R2, shrieking as if it’d been any help in the fight. Right on their tail came the Ilha, ripping through the trees without a care. Its fetid hot breath burned their backs, Anakin hopefully imaging the swipe of teeth just missing his flesh.

There. He caught something dark ahead, his brain remembering the cool mud below. “A cave!” he shouted, spinning on his foot and trusting that Padmé would follow. Leaping over a downed log, Anakin hurled himself through a rocky pass carved into this old mountain. Before he could bash his head in against the other side, he rolled, turning just as all of Padmé smacked into him.

“It’s too open,” she shouted, her eyes widening at the passageway the Ilha could easily claw through.

“Then we close it,” Anakin staggered up out of the wet sand, his hands rising to forcegrip onto the boulders nestled above the entrance. Padmé joined him, her green trail overlapping with his. Funny how natural that felt. He’d have expected it to snap back at him.

They began to tug, when she paused, “Wait! Artoo!”

“Oh for the…we can get a new droid,” Anakin snarled, his eyes trailing the oncoming rampage. Entire trees probably older than Master Yoda were uprooted at the creature running full bore through the forest. They didn’t have time for some damn mech droid.

But Padmé wouldn’t hear it, reaching forward she grabbed onto R2 with her force powers and yanked the damn thing towards them. It screamed the whole time, its little zapper shocking empty air. The Ilha’s black eyes lit up as it caught them. Rebounding its efforts, it came crashing for them.

“Can I close it now?” Anakin asked needlessly.

“Yes!” She staggered up beside him, her arm brushing against his as both grabbed onto the boulders. The first crashed down, startling the oncoming Ilha, but it was mad about that wound and wasn’t going to give up easy. Even through the minimal rockslide, it stuck its snout in. Hot breath that stank of death charred over their skin, but the Jedi ignored it. More rocks fell, bouncing into the nose.

The Ilha whimpered, finally yanking back as the last of the rocks formed a tight seal against its only means of entrance. And, perhaps, their only way out. They waited, both hands extended together in the dark, the Jedi listening and watching the scrabbling monster trying to dig through the rocks. It tried a few more times, which only sent more rubble tumbling to its nose.

That seemed to do it, the monster finally abandoning its prey. Anakin collapsed to the back of the cave, a sigh rolling in his throat, when he felt the damn droid bounce into his leg. “Any chance you got a light on you?”

A tiny blue flame broke from inside R2, Anakin sighing. “That’ll be enough.” He laughed, scrubbing through his hair when he caught Padmé touching her shoulder. She winced while yanking out three of the quills jammed into her skin. After scattering them to the ground, she bent over and began to dig through that first-aid kit.

“It can’t be that bad,” Anakin laughed at how determined she was.

“You don’t…” She gulped as if it was hard for her to swallow. “A single prick from an Ilha needle can poison a person dead.”

“Honestly?” Anakin shouted. “Why haven’t we wiped these monsters out?”

She ignored him, her trembling fingers trying to reach for something in the plastic box. But the whole thing fell to the sand, Anakin dashing forward to catch Padmé before she too crumbled. It had to be the eerie blue light, but it looked like veins of green were pulsing under her skin.

“What…what do I do?” Anakin asked and begged her. _Why didn’t you read the damn manual?_ His brain shouted it at him, Padmé unable as her eyes started to roll back.

“Tube, inject into…neck,” she sputtered out.

Anakin fished around in the mud, trying to find what she dropped, when the droid pressed it into his injured wrist. Holding back a yelp, he took it. “This?”

“Ye-e-es,” she nodded, her tongue struggling to swallow. “Only…only one.”

“It’s the only one we have,” Anakin guessed. He paused, his fingers wrapped around the vial of medicine. “How much do I…?”

Padmé flopped back, her eyes shut as she fell unconscious. Anakin dug into her wrist, the pulse weak but there. Yanking out the injector, he loaded up the vial. “No idea how much you need, but…” Pushing it into her neck, he sighed as all of the medicine filled her poisoned veins, “better safe than sorry.”

Almost instantly, the puffiness in her face and tongue began to deflate, but she didn’t wake. Anakin stumbled back, watching her body shake on the floor. “R2,” he called, his voice growing scratchy. “Watch her,” he ordered the droid.

Reaching to his stomach, he yanked out a single quill. It spun in his fingers like the streaks off the stars. All that work to get to them, to finally walk among them, and this would be what did him in. A laugh tried to find its way to his lips, but it snagged in his swelling throat. With a groan, Anakin fell back into the dirt, darkness overtaking him.


	9. Temptation

“I formally wish to register a complaint at the existence of Jedi at this table.”

Obi-Wan could barely smother down an eye roll at the jowled politician wafting his gut around for attention. The fellow unwanted Jedi beside him must have caught it as Lan’vass leaned closer to whisper, “You spend too much time with your Apprentice.”

“Or, perhaps he gets it from me,” Obi-Wan lobbed back, his hands clasped above the picked clean golden plate. While Lan’vass managed to hide away a snicker at the thought, all of the diplomatic eyes were drawn to the woman at the head of the table.

She rose from her chair, nearly tipping it over from the great bustle in her dress. “It is noted, Bonto Mal,” the Queen said formally. Obi-Wan watched not the puffing diplomat, nor the others all in a huff about the Council daring to send any Jedi. No, his curiosity was upon the Queen. For this dinner, as all the others before, she wore an entire face of makeup. Bone white, with a stripe of red to her lips and under her eyes. Yet, she made it through five courses without smudging a lick of it.

“This is all some trick by the Republic,” another diplomat picked up the line that’d been spat out since Obi-Wan and Lan’vass were gifted a seat at not only the talks but the dinners.

“I assure you, gentlemen, ladies,” the one senator sent to speak for the Republic once again spoke up. He was young but seemed to be knowledgeable and a calming influence. “The Republic has no intentions to try and sway your vote with trickery or malfeasance. We have no control over the Jedi.”

“Ha,” a few voices snorted from further down the table.

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrow, the Jedi clearly staring down to see who it was, but none suddenly wanted to speak up. It was Lan’vass who rose, her hands piled together before her ivory white robes. “We serve the light side not the Republic, our mission is only to protect the Queen. It is up to you, servants of the people, to decide for yourself what is best for your homeland. No Jedi could hope to sway such solid minds.”

He swallowed the snicker, watching as those ‘solid minds’ beamed at the taller and more polished Jedi returning to her chair. So too did the Queen return to hers. Obi-Wan leaned closer to Lan’vass to whisper, “Excellent choice of words.”

“Solid can mean so many different things in context,” she snickered into her wine glass.

At that moment, the Queen sat up taller, a bell ringing as she announced to the full compliment of diplomats, “Ah, the cheese course.”

“Another round?” Kenobi gasped to himself.

“May the force be with you,” Lan’vass smiled.

They’d been at the talks for three days already. Talks. It was how the Naboo people referred to them, but he’d seen drunken pirates hold more invigorating discussions. This was more a chance for every diplomat to rise to the podium and complain about anything to annoy him or herself. The topics ranged from taxes, to street repair, to if the wind was too loud.

And in the middle of it all was the Queen. Forced to sit and act as if she could care about any of the whining occurring at her feet. At this point, Obi-Wan would gladly say goodbye to the planet if it got him out of here. Luckily, Lan’vass had a cooler head. She was the one trying to soothe the feathers of the diplomats he’d bet were looking at a greater windfall should Naboo choose to leave. War-mongerers. Market players. The types who spoke only for themselves regardless of what the sash of office proclaimed.

Even with dinner finished, the posturing was not over. No, they all had to make their back deals and side deals. Grease the right palms, seize upon the right connections. Obi-Wan preferred the scummy taverns in comparison. Hm, maybe Lan’vass was correct and he did spend too much time with Anakin.

“You look as if you are intending to rip the throats out of every gentleman in attendance.”

He turned in surprise to find the Queen standing close to his ear, her voice dropped in a whisper. She’d left an hour ago, on the assumption of retiring to her room for the night. But it seemed as if she needed that time to clear away the official makeup from her face and remove the scaffolded dress. A thin satin sheaf clung to her body, the shimmering garment flowing down her body like a river. It was certainly a step up from the brocade mess of before.

“I would never, your Majesty,” Obi-Wan said formally. The Queen’s eyes drifted lower away from him, when he smiled secretly to add on, “I suspect most would wet themselves if I simply unsheathed my lightsaber. No throat ripping necessary.”

A bright grin lifted her pale-pink lips. “Nice to see that the young Apprentice Kenobi I met all those years ago hasn’t been fully erased by the rigors of the Jedi order.”

He tipped his head at the thought. “I like to think I’ve grown more wise since then.”

“I as well,” she mused, a hand cupping under her chin. “But there’s always another immediate catastrophe to put me in my place. Would you be so kind as to escort me to my quarters?”

Her perfumed elbow crooked out, waggling through the air for his attention. Happily, Obi-Wan circled his arm through the hole. “I’d be delighted, your Highness.”

Together, the pair of them walked away from the backstabbing politics towards a winding corridor only the Queen could navigate. Though, he did feel the eyes of a Jedi watching him leave.

It wasn’t until they passed far from the party, that the Queen spoke, “I’m beginning to fear that you’re here for naught. Three days and not even a sign of foul play anywhere.”

Obi-Wan frowned at that. It was true. They’d searched all the diplomats, who threw an epic fuss over such a violation, canvassed the roofs during the negotiations. Run scanners over the ducts for any explosives. If there was to be an attack, it sure seemed to be taking its time. There was only one more day remaining before the vote.

“Not that…” the Queen turned at the end of his arm and blushed, “not that I’m not heartened to see you again.”

“We devote ourselves to saving lives,” Obi-Wan said.

Her eyes drifted again into a mile long stare, the Queen nodding, “Of course.”

“If I may, which way do you think the vote will go?”

The Queen rose up higher on her toes, the woman somehow the shortest in the family. Obi-Wan bent down to help as her warm breath danced in his ear. “Confidentially, I’d say there is almost no chance of Naboo leaving the Republic.”

“Really?” From what he’d seen, he’d have thought it a foregone conclusion the vote would be to leave. Everyone was constantly complaining about the Senate, the Republic, the Jedi themselves. Called them the Republic’s unfettered watchdogs, though he suspected they were really wanting to say un-neutered but didn’t have the gumption to make such a claim.

Sighing, the Queen tipped back from his cheek. “Change is scary, to uproot everything you ever knew does not come easy. Most out there know it. They’ve already grown fat upon the bureaucracy of the Senate. To switch to someone new is… Well, it’s rather unsettling. They will stay.”

“Then why even bother with this?”

“Just because they don’t wish to leave doesn’t mean they’re happy either. It is a statement to the Senate, a warning that people are not content.” Her hazel eyes drifted over his face, no doubt reading the confusion. “The same as you drawing your lightsaber even when you have no intent to use it.”

“A threat,” Obi-Wan pursed his lips at this waste of everyone’s time.

“A bureaucratic threat, often the most toothless of them all. But, it is the people’s wish and I must answer to them.”

They shifted further down the hall, the Queen placing a hand to a panel upon the wall. The entire golden filagree rose away, revealing a new passage. As she guided Obi-Wan threw it, a door slammed shut behind. He was going to be walking for hours to find his way back to the main room. How could any assassin think he could walk these halls without being horribly turned around?

How could any Jedi hope to chase one down to protect her?

Obi-Wan frowned at the thought of this mission potentially failing. “You do not have any heirs?” he asked, his head tipping to her.

She gasped in surprise, her cheeks lighting up as red as her rouge. “I admit, that’s the first time any man’s ever been so bold.”

“No, I only…” he gulped, growing more aware of how far away the party was. “The line of succession in Naboo. If we do not succeed…”

“You are concerned for the planet. A noble thought, but you needn’t worry. The moment that I ascended the throne, it was laid out through a means of cousins and prime ministers and whatnot. It will not sit fallow for long.”

“Now I am wondering how a woman of your like is not married,” he smiled wider, always surprised at how quickly she leapt straight for the problem and didn’t let go. Quite a few of the Federation learned that even at nineteen and barely a year on the throne, the Queen of Naboo was not easily shaken.

Her arm brushed against his shoulder, “A simple matter of the right man never asking.”

“The planet is lucky to have you as its ruler, your Majesty.”

“Please, Obi-Wan, I think you can call me Ballari,” her eyes beamed into his. “After all we’ve been through.”

He snickered to himself, noticing that their hands had cupped together. “It feels a lifetime ago.”

“Ten years. The beard certainly ages you.” She drew a graceful finger to her chin, trailing his own line of scruff upon her skin.

“I might have to take offense to that.”

“No, it’s…it’s good. Gives you an air of perspicacity.”

“Certainly something I was missing in my youth,” he laughed, his lips drifting closer to Ballari’s warm cheek. Obi-Wan raised his head before it could even touch, but she drew nearer.

Folding her fingers with his, her perceptive eyes honed in on their hands clasped together. “I never thanked you,” she whispered.

“Truly? I seem to remember a great feast thrown in our honor that lasted for three whole days. I’d never seen Master Yoda so drunk before.”

“No,” she laughed at the thought, “no, I never thanked you, specifically. I would have given up, given in, forgotten my people in that moment of darkness. But your voice calmed me, guided me back to the light. To where I belonged. If not for you, I don’t know what would have become of Naboo.”

Obi-Wan swallowed deep, his memory spooling back to the pair of them trapped on a downed ship. Laser fire ripped through the air as the young Queen jabbed fingers into her ears and prayed for it all to go away. He swore then that nothing bad would ever befall her, that he’d do everything within his power to keep her safe. It was as true then as it was now. She was a strong light in the galaxy.

“Oh,” Ballari glanced back behind herself to a random door just like any other, “this is my room.”

“Glad I had you to help me guide you to it,” Obi-Wan snickered, well aware how lost he was.

“Would you…like to join me? We could speak of old times in a more private setting?”

Ah. His fingers separated from hers, the Jedi Knight stepping back from the woman. “While I would love nothing more than to…share in your beautiful thoughts, I’m afraid that my duty requires me elsewhere.”

An easy smile played with her lips, but he could read the hurt cracking over her eyes. It took her a moment to nod her head and speak, “Of course. The Jedi Order is rarely flexible in its call to duty.”

“On that matter, it is not I’m afraid.”

“We all have that which we answer to. Good evening, Master Kenobi.” Her voice and eyes turned cold and distant. He didn’t realize until that moment that the makeup was a front for the true mask she wore — the one that kept her at arms length from everyone.

Turning on her heel, she walked towards her door. Obi-Wan bent his forehead lower, “To you as well, your Majesty.”

“I used to think I’d never tire of that formality,” she sighed in the doorframe. “Time makes fools of us all.” With that she slipped inside, leaving Obi-Wan hopelessly lost. His fingers clutched tight together inside his robes, trying to cool his blood. In reaching, he bumped against his lightsaber. A reminder that no matter the cost, he belonged to the Jedi.

Turning on his heel, he walked away from the Queen’s bedroom. Before he could begin to worry about where the next turn was, he nearly ran into Lan’vass. She glanced up and down him, seeming to read every wanton thought chasing through his brain. “Master Kenobi, I came to make certain you did not get lost and have to spend the night elsewhere.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he smiled, “I do have some control of my steps.”

“My concern is more in how the rest of the planet would view your…interference.”

Obi-Wan sighed. He knew the Council sent them because they were the only two Jedi the Queen would happily allow into her presence. Anyone else would have been shipped back regardless of the threat to her person. In some ways that felt like an interference of its own, but it didn’t matter. Naboo would remain, this was all a farce, and soon he’d be sent elsewhere, his duties providing a worthy distraction.

“Come,” Lan’vass said, “we should retire before the early day tomorrow. I cannot wait to leave this planet.”

He glanced towards the closed door of her Majesty. “Me as well.”


	10. Walk The Sky

“Ani.”

He flinched, mentally scurrying deeper into the safety of the dark. The shadows protected him, shielded him from any eyes swooping to see who made that noise. Who brought them to their door.

“Ani…”

The voice was buried under shattered wood, boots stomping over the floor. “No,” he buried his hands over his ears, his head ducking deeper to his chest.

Air sucked from his lungs, Anakin’s eyes snapping open to find himself at the bottom of an ocean. Blue light danced above, the twirl of waves and fish trying to entice him up. But he hung suspended in the cold dark, the indigo shadows of the bottom calling to him. Beckoning for him to give in, to let them wash over him and blanket away the noisy light.

“Ani,” her voice whispered from beside his ear. Anakin sat up, his arms and legs distending from the tight ball he’d rolled into. Only her eyes hovered above him, blue as the sea. Slowly, a soft smile curled up her lips. She didn’t do that much anymore.

A little laugh broke from her as she sighed, “It’s time to get up, Ani. To greet the world with open arms.”

“No,” his heart clenched, hands trying to lash out to catch hers but they were too small. She easily slipped his grasp, already rising away, walking towards the door. “Mom…” Anakin stumbled, trying to clench his eyes shut but it didn’t matter. He could see even through the darkness.

The crack of the front door, the guards snatching her up, that man in the robes declaring her destitute in her debts. A jagged scar flashed through his mind, three black lines slashing apart the memory. The horror he forever carried in his heart.

Each piece of the scene fell away like ripped paper, revealing his mother standing alone in a sea of nothing. She held her palm to him, her back bent low as if he was no more than three feet tall. “Come on, Ani. There’s a big sky out there for us to walk in.”

His eyes shot open, Anakin gasping as pain ransacked his body. Dirty rocks hovered just above his sightline, the dream fading quickly but never leaving his mind. A sound of hissing erupted around him, but Anakin could barely move.

“Again,” a voice shouted. Not as soft as his mother’s. This one was commanding and sounded beside itself with concern. Padmé? “Artoo, shock him again!”

The droid beeped and Anakin smelled the damn things zapper cracking through the air. “Wait,” he tried to gasp out but his throat felt as if someone jammed a dozen balls down it. Still the droid kept coming, the blue charge hissing through the air. “Damn, stop and…” Anakin couldn’t get more than a whisper, his body yet paralyzed from whatever they were doing to him.

Over his eyes he saw the blue shock coming, R2 aiming it for his side. Without thought, Anakin mentally grabbed onto the first thing he could find and whipped it at the droid. When the rock bounced off its head from the force, the droid shrieked. It’s dome spun in circles, eyeing up the attack. Anakin sighed, but then the blighted clacking thing kept after him.

He raised more rocks, ready to hurl them at R2 and damn the Council property. It was Padmé who wrapped her hands around the droid, hurling him away. “Stop, Artoo, stop. He’s…” Her unending brown eyes washed over him, red lining the sides of normally clear whites. Had she been crying over him? Or was she sad that he survived?

“Anakin?” Padmé stuttered.

“I’m…”

“What were you thinking?!” she shrieked. One hand tried to help him rise to a sit, while another lightly whacked into his arm. No doubt it should have hurt but his body was still unreachable.

“Nice to see you survived,” Anakin growled through the nodes in his throat. Each word felt as if it cost him another year on his life. Having to suffer under Apprentice Amidala would easily wipe him of fifty.

“You used the entire vial on me and didn’t even check yourself first?” Her cheeks were nearly pink in her anger, the soft light of a flare casting against their little cave-in. “That is reckless, foolish, against protocol.”

He tried to chuckle, but it was soundless in his state. “The great Padmé’s gotten it wrong for once. I did know I got hit before injecting you.”

“Then you…” Her eyes churned through the facts laid bare before her. Anakin’s back his a pile of rubble, his head softly bouncing into them. It should probably hurt, all of this should hurt really, but he felt…dead.

“Why would you do that?”

He’d seen Apprentice Amidala in a lot of states, usually with her nose knotted in the air as if she smelled someone’s broken latrine and a tut-tut on her tongue. In all those years of studying with the Jedi, he’d never once seen her so shocked and — take him for thinking it — fragile. Ha, fragile. She was the one who could get her arms to work.

“You told me to,” Anakin said as if it was no skin off his nose.

She scowled, that momentary softness hardening under the shell he knew well. “You foolish, ignorant, egotistical…”

“Figured I could tough it out, only got hit once. Seemed I was right,” he offered as an explanation, but that only enraged her more.

“You were this close to death,” she pinched her thumb and finger together so tight there was no gap. “If not for Artoo’s quick thinking of shocking you, you would be a corpse right now.”

The damn droid swiveled its head around to him, the eye lighting up. Anakin snickered, “Don’t think I don’t know you just wanted to check to make sure I was really dead.” R2 cursed a storm at that, shivering on its legs from the implications, but he knew.

Gasping in more air, Anakin tried to take stock of his body. All limbs dead. But he could move his eyes and breathe. Swallowing seemed to be working. And the heart beating. “What did you do to me?”

“Why?”

“I can’t move a thing for starters.”

That surprised her, Padmé clearly fidgeting with the first-aid kit that was now upended all over the floor. “I…I had to make due with what was left. There was some, anti-toxin isn’t easy to manufacture in a cave, and…”

“Will I walk again?”

“Of course,” she scoffed, “it should wear off in a few hours.”

Anakin shrugged. Oh, he could already lift his shoulder. That was good. “All I need to know.”

The pretty princess’ lips worked through a few curses he could read on her face, clearly finding his laissez-faire approach unacceptable. Snarling at R2, she ordered the droid, “Keep a watch on him. Don’t let him die, or do anything stupid.” And with that she began to bundle back up the first-aid kit. Good thing she thought to grab it or else…

Padmé’s fingers paused above the closed box, her head turned away from him as she said, “That was foolish, even for you.”

“We didn’t exactly have a lot of options,” Anakin said, not wanting to draw out why he did it. Or that he’d probably do the same thing again. She survived, the smart, perfect Jedi able to keep his ass alive. It worked.

“It’s against protocol.”

“Sod protocol.”

“It’s not right!” Tears sprung in her eyes, causing Anakin to nearly crack his skull in the jerk of surprise. “You should,” Padmé wiped haphazardly at her cheeks, “why can you not do as…”

“Told?”

“As is expected of a Jedi,” she finished with instead. Her wary eyes darted to the pile of rubble he yanked down and she sighed something under her breath. Awkwardness rose in their little cave, even R2 staying mercifully silent — though it did make sure to roll over Anakin’s toes when it could. Joke was on the droid, he couldn’t feel a thing.

After securing her kit, checking on a small ration of water she gathered from who knew where, Padmé crumpled to the wall across from Anakin. Her eyes refused to meet his, forcing him to stare at the side of her braid, her shoulder, and a crumbled in stalactite. Stalagmite? Cave thing.

“I don’t know how long we were out,” she whispered to herself.

“We’ll get out of here, no problem. Kick out the rocks, find Hoss,” Anakin said with such certainty she had to believe it. Simple. Finish their mission without a second thought. “Get a message to the Council to come pick us up. We’ll be fine.”

“It is not us I am concerned with.”

He shook his head, “What? Are you worried about your Master?” She didn’t exactly nod, but her chin twitched at the thought. “What danger could either of them possibly have to worry about? She has Obi-Wan watching her back.”

“My concerns rest with…Naboo.”

“Why?” This was starting to bug him. The only time Anakin paid attention to what planet they landed on was to check flight paths. There were hundreds out there within the Republic, even more in the galaxy that supported life. What was one out of the multitude?

That was apparently the wrong question as her eyes narrowed even tighter. “You cannot be…you must know. For…you call me princess. How do you not know?”

“Know what?”

“I am Queen Amidala’s sister,” she gasped out, shattering Anakin’s narrow grip on reality.

His jaw hung slack, his eyes bulging to try and understand that. “No, no… You cannot, what? How?”

“Do I need to explain the mechanics of family relations to you? Why would you regularly call me princess to taunt me if you don’t believe it?”

“I just…it was what all the others called you. Thought it was because you’re so…you. Prickly. Prissy. Like a princess,” he tried to shake it off with a laugh but her glare withered to venom, which was the last thing he needed more of. Gasping, Anakin shook his head, “A real princess.”

Padmé sighed under her voice, “No. No longer a princess. When I joined the Jedi order I relinquished any title I held to the royal throne of Naboo. Neither me nor my line would inherit the crown. But I worry for my sister. She was so young when our father died, the Republic and Separatists swooping in like vultures upon the small world. If they…”

“Hey,” Anakin called, flicking his fingertips to get her attention. He was able to move those. All right. Slowly, Padmé’s weary eyes turned to him. “The best damn Jedi Master is protecting her right now.”

Padmé smiled at that, “Yes, she is.”

“Your sister will be okay,” he assured her.

With her chin dropping to her chest, that weak moment vanished and polished Padmé snapped into place. “I should focus on our mission. We are in the thick of it now.”

“Tell me about it,” Anakin snickered, his head bouncing back against the rocks, “I can already hear all the ways Obi-Wan will tongue lash me for this mess.” What was it last time? He had to clean the entire duct system of the man’s fighter with a sonicating toothpick. No doubt he had something better stashed up his sleeve.

“The name Amidala,” Padmé said, drawing his attention, “it never made you wonder?”

“I just assumed you picked it.” Anakin never put much thought into anyone’s family name.

“Picked it?” She seemed to find that funny, her voice lifting in a laugh. “Who picks their name?”

People who are left without one. People who have it stolen from them. People who made a promise.

Anakin twisted in place, grumbling about how he should get some sleep until this paralysis wore off. With his head splattered into the sand, his eyes staring up at a snarling droid warden, he drifted away from here. _Mom_ , his heart beat with that final memory clinging in his mind, _one day I’ll walk the sky with you again._


	11. Failure

Concentrate.

She bit down on her tongue, her eyes squeezed tight. One hand extended with locked-in elbow towards the pile of rubble. _Think of the rocks floating, like little balloons._ Padmé tried to clamp onto such a ridiculous notion, but it snapped away. In doing so, the Force fled from her and the rock collapsed centimeters back to where it began.

_Damn it!_

“What are you doing?” Anakin asked. He paused in trying to wind up his fresh bandage, his legs still slow to react but he seemed to have full motor control of his arms.

“Nothing,” Padmé hissed, then winced. That was the same as telling someone, ‘please, keep bothering me because I am clearly doing something interesting.’ Sure enough, Anakin abandoned the first-aid kit he left on top of Artoo’s head and walked up behind her.

She could feel his chin drifting close to her shoulder, Anakin forced to stoop in the low overhang. His eyes cut a line from the cave-in back to Padmé, who wished he’d take a step or two back. It was unnerving to smell his body and find that it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Were you trying to move those?” he asked as if it was a jolly farce.

“No!” she spat instantly, then groaned. In a softer voice, she admitted to the one person guaranteed to laugh at her, “Yes.”

“Oh, well you’re doing it all wrong,” Anakin shrugged and turned back to the droid.

Padmé spun on her heels, her glare trying to find purchase upon the infuriating man. He wasn’t laughing at her, nor was he stampeding over to massage his own ego. No, he just kept on acting as if nothing was different.

“What do you mean I’m doing it wrong?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way, lots of Jedi attack the problem the same. All brute strength, trying to bludgeon the Force into obeying you.”

She whipped her head in confusion, “That’s how it works. Your will must be stronger than the Force, must be able to overpower the natural order to your whims.”

The boy winding up a line of rope to place back in the pack chuckled, “Says who?”

“Everyone,” Padmé spat out, her arms crossed. She could cite a good hundred books from the days of the old knights alone.

But that fool didn’t much care for historical research. His sparkling eyes drifted over to her, and with a smile, he said, “I guess I’m not everyone.”

“No, no you’re not. Fine, how would you move the rocks?” She was happy to let him strain himself to prove his point. Or at least show off that innate talent that everyone whispered about.

“Well, I’d shift the balance of gravity itself first. Then alter the pull to outside. But…in truth, I’d rather take the back exit here. Less likely to bump into a potential Ilha waiting for a late breakfast.” He jabbed his finger back through what she’d thought was solid rock.

Snatching up their crude torch, Padmé dashed past Anakin and a grumbling R2 to waft the light over a passage. “Where does this go?” She turned from her spot to find Anakin’s eyes worked their way right next to hers. A gulp rose in Padmé’s throat, but she didn’t let it show on her face. Nor did she leap away. She had just as much right to be in this space as he did to…to put his face practically onto hers.

“How,” she began, trying to ignore the awkward situation, “There is a likelier chance we would become trapped and have to turn back anyway.”

“Nah,” he shook his head so assuredly a sliver of Padmé’s gut began to understand why all those padwan’s flocked to him. “It leads to an underground river, which breaks up a few miles further on into a waterfall.”

“Waterfall?” She could hear neither that nor rushing water to give any hint of a river. “How can you possibly know any of that?”

Surprise and confusion — two of Anakin’s top marks — overwhelmed his face. He closed off the first aid kit, slipped it into his pocket this time, and said, “The Force, of course. I felt it slicing through the mountain’s rocky browns when fighting off the quill monster.”

“You…” Her jaw dropped, Padmé twisting her head from this hapless boy to the hidden escape. She drew her palm to the top gap, the folds of the rock nearly hiding it away perfectly. She too had dipped into the force, trying to meditate while Anakin slept to regain his strength. There was nothing, no mountain, no river that called to her. Only herself and the vast darkness beyond.

“Well,” Anakin knocked twice upon Artoo’s head and he tipped his chin to Padmé, “I guess I’ll go first.”

He began to wedge himself through the gap even as Padmé sighed, “You are the most likely to get stuck.”

The droid at their feet beeped and clicked, Padmé glancing down to it. “Don’t worry R2, we’d never leave you behind.” Even with the rock of the mountain between them, she could hear Anakin cough. “I’d never leave you behind.”

It was a bit of a tight squeeze maneuvering the metal droid through the hole, Padmé having to pick R2 up at one point. But with no one getting trapped, and no sudden creature attacks, all three made it out into a vast cavern. Sure enough, a trickle of water grew into a stream. If they kept following it, she knew they’d find a full river.

Because Anakin knew. What was he?

She’d scoffed at the chosen one talk, many on the Council chalking his acceptance into the Order due to a dying Master’s last wish. Let Obi-Wan try to train him. If it failed, what were they out? There would always be more padawans, more Jedi.

But others believed fervidly that this was the one who’d save them, who’d finally bring balance to this galaxy. Which was why Anakin never had to answer to the same rigorous standards as the rest of them. The believers needed him to be perfect, so they decided he was. No one cared if he announced every lightsaber strike leaving himself open for attack and retribution. No one dare correct him on his approach to dealing with every damn problem put before a Jedi. The Golden Child must be just that.

She thought him a farce, a fool that stumbled into his luck and was riding it as long as possible.

He risked his own life for hers. Which was foolish, but…

“Ah,” Anakin’s voice cut through her thoughts, “we seen to have reached a split.” He wafted the torch through the cavern, revealing that the water did indeed rip into two streams. “Which should we follow?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Wasn’t it Yoda who said, ‘Leader you shall be, Padmé, hmm’?”

She shouldn’t laugh at his mimicking Master Yoda’s speech, but the guffaw escaped her lips anyway. “Trust in the force, you must,” spat out of her, the giggles fleeing as she came to a stop beside Anakin.

“Well, well, look at that. Padmé Amidala joking around. Oh no,” he suddenly froze, his hands both falling to the side and pointing their only light to the ground. “Did I really die? Is this the Jedi afterlife?”

Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes, “You think I’d be in your afterlife?”

“That, uh…that’s a fair point, and it doesn’t answer the question of which way to go.”

Raising her head, she glanced from one side to the other. They looked as identical as two underground streams could. When in doubt, pick right. It may not even matter. Make a decision so he sees you as a leader. He’s already mocking you and…

“Which do you,” Padmé flinched, her eyes drifting to him, “which do you think will open up?”

Anakin’s eyes closed, his lips pursing in silence. Funny, when he wasn’t rolling his eyes at her, or making cheap remarks he almost looked handsome.

_What? Why would she…?_

“Right,” he announced, a smile rising with his answer. For a beat, he seemed to read her face knowingly. Could he hear her thoughts through the Force too? Her heart beat faster, terrified of what Anakin could do with such knowledge, when he said, “Did you think left?”

“No, I assumed right as well. Come along. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

“As you say, boss,” Anakin hefted up the torch, lining the path of light ahead of her feet. As he fell in behind her, he picked up a small tune on his lips which whistled off of every stalactite in the cave.

Everything came so easy to him, the chosen one, to the point he didn’t have to study neither his opponents nor his fellow Jedi. Did he even train or did Obi-Wan pass him a lightsaber and sit back to see what happened? It was infuriating to say the least, but… Padmé stirred her foot through the grit. She knew in her mind that there had to be life under there — microbes, insects, perhaps something even larger. But she couldn’t sense it the way Anakin could. The way so many other Jedi could.

“Why don’t you study the vids?” sputtered out of her lips before she got a better grip to her wild thoughts.

The torchlight wafted so close towards her she lost track of him. Good thing it was technological or she’d have lost her eyebrows. “Not this again,” Anakin rolled his eyes, driving back any foolish thoughts she had of finding him attractive. No, he was as obstinate as a snaggleburr on your sock.

“You don’t study the fighting vids, people rarely find you in the ring, you don’t even read the philosophies set down before and yet…” she gulped, “it all answers to you. You rise to the challenge without breaking a sweat.”

He scoffed to himself, “I wouldn’t say without a sweat. The robes can get rather…uh, never mind. What? Are you complaining at my lagging skill? The one who beat me in a duel?”

“That was on a level playing field, known combatants, taught not...” She shouldn’t be telling him this. Anakin was her rival, of sorts, as far as Jedi had them. At the very least he was particularly annoying.

Naboo. Her shoulder bounced against the rocky crevices, Padmé’s feet slowing to a halt. “I cannot feel it,” she sighed.

“That hit?” Anakin winced as if that was her concern. “Are you numb too from the anti-toxin?”

“No,” she tried to slip open her mind but it was like breaking down an iron door. “The Force. Not the way you can. For you it’s…a shout, while I’m left with whispers.”

“What are you talking about?” He was incapable of listening, already laughing and glancing around the narrow cavern as if someone was pulling his leg. “You’re a Jedi.”

“Because I was once a princess of Naboo.” Tipping her head up, she dared to stare into his confused eyes. Her tongue laid bare a fact worn around her neck like a diseased sea bird. “I am force sensitive, a fact that came to light when I was only three. And it presented the Jedi an opportunity.”

She remembered well the council standing in her father’s throne room. Three Jedi dispatched to weigh her skills, her potential. One refused in an instant, insisting that she may be force-touched but she was no Jedi. The second looked about to say the same, when Master Windu spoke.

Digging a hand into her shoulder, Padmé confessed to her only audience, “They wanted Naboo on their side. On the Republic’s side without question. And what better way than to train a princess in their Order? Now, with Naboo potentially leaving the Republic, where would that leave me? Would they even bother to keep some lesser, barely Jedi around or…?”

An acidic snort rolled through her nose, her sins scouring her thoughts. “For all the grief I give you, you belong in the Order far more than I ever will.”

“Padmé,” he whispered her name.

Why did she tell him that? Now he knew every way to strike at her. Her greatest weakness was that no matter how much she studied, honed her body, her mind, she could never touch the Force as he did. As any Jedi did.

Anakin gulped a moment, the light falling down to form a halo between their two feet. In the dark, only the drip of water slithering down stalactites to fill the void, he said, “I don’t study the vids, learn the history, even page through the mission briefings because…”

At the break, she raised her eyes. It was hard to see through the dim glow, but she could almost feel his blue irises and they were burning. Not in anger, not in the heat of battle, but shame. Anakin winced once more, his head tipping back so he couldn’t look at her.

With a slow breath, he finished, “I cannot read them.”

“What?” That couldn’t be right. He was fooling with her. Not read? He was a Jedi!

“It’s all in…this high-brow tongue that, when I try to wrap my mind around a word of it, the whole mess floods from my grasp.” Anakin waved his arm around, scattering the torchlight across the cavern where it ended up shimmering against the running river. As it came to a slow, he sighed, “It’s not as if I can’t read anything. Signs are fine, small digital readouts, but…”

With his tongue swiping over his teeth, his eyes puckered tight, Anakin confessed, “People don’t teach slaves how to read.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“They already didn’t want me. Too old, too…angry,” he flexed his fingers as if he was still fighting an ancient battle. _Though, so are you Amidala. One the Jedi picked for you._ “And you all were off in your group. You knew each other. Last thing you wanted was someone like me around, scrabbling to catch up.”

“We,” she tried to remember back nearly ten years, but all Padmé could dredge up was that new, mysterious blonde boy being carted off by his Master. He was never there for the moments of levity, the stark introspections under the stars, the pointless pillow fights.

Or was he and she just didn’t notice?

“If,” he resumed talking, clearly trying to trample down her response to his confession, “Maybe they didn’t know for sure when you were a kid, but if they didn’t believe in you now, would you be the lead on this mission?”

She pursed her lips, the thought rattling through her head. Or did Master Yoda think she was the only person to keep Anakin in line and aimed at the target? It seemed more likely, though she wondered why he’d consider as such. Everyone in the Order knew the pair couldn’t stand each other.

Her eyes drifted up to find Anakin, the most annoying person in the temple, clinging to her arm as he attempted to comfort her. Raising her fingers, she gripped onto him. Rather than yank his fingers off, her lips opened as she attempted to do the same.

“Anakin, if you’d like, I can teach you how to read. Parsing the Jedi missives can be arduous even for the most stalwart of…” A red blush burned up her cheeks as she realized she was speaking in the same high-language. As if she wanted to taunt him, keep him at arm’s length.

Shaking her head, she smiled, “It’s a pain, but there are tricks to make it easier.”

At that Anakin chuckled, “Good to know. Here I assumed all you rich-born Jedi came in already knowing the fanciest words. I’ll…I’ll think about it. We have to get out of this cave first.”

“Indeed, the mission first, then…” _What are you thinking? Do you have any idea how long it will take to teach someone like him to read? Dooming yourself to spending even more time with Apprentice Skywalker, great thinking there Padmé._ “Shall we?”

“After you,” he extended the torch out, his body sliding away from hers. She’d barely noticed how close he got for no apparent reason. Padmé stuck her foot free, about to take a step forward, when she felt an abyss open below.

The warning nearly came too late, her misplaced step about to send her careening down a gap in the cave. Shaking her head, she grabbed onto the Force boy and said, “How about you go first, instead?”

Anakin barely even blinked as he navigated the crumbling falls, Padmé forced to watch and mimic his every move. As she eased around a rocky shelf, she caught R2 beeping to itself in annoyance. “What?” she called to the droid. “We’re moving now.”

After a time under the cave, the stream opened into a river, revealing real sunlight streaming through an opening. The pair didn’t run towards it, there were yet numerous pits waiting to claim their ankles, but they happily moved quick to gaze outward. Sparkling green water erupted below them into a rainbow of only oranges and pinks.

Anakin pointed down at it, asking, “Where’s the other colors?”

“It’s the planet’s atmosphere. It only picks up on the infrared shade of colors, hence why the sky is more often pink and red than not,” she explained off hand but felt the boy staring at her. “What?”

“Did you read all up about Celadon while we were on the way here, as you were piloting?”

“Of course not,” she shrugged her robe tighter across her body. After shifting it away to repair the quill damage to her skin, she somehow forgot to add it back. In the darkness, she didn’t notice. Nor did Anakin say anything about it.

Getting a foot on a rock just above the jutting waterfall, Padmé smiled, “I studied the entire system of planets.” Before he could get in a smart remark, she fished out the small device in her pocket and aimed it towards the sky.

“It’s nice to be out of the cave, and no rampaging needle monster in sight, but…” Anakin hopped down two stones slick with river water, not once pausing with concern for falling. “Where do we find Hoss in this jungle? Continent? Planet?” The enormity of their search becoming a needle in a galactic haystack tried to rear its head, but Padmé waved it off.

When her palm beeped, she pointed towards the tree-line in the distance. It had to be the obvious gap revealing a facility of some kind. “He is in that direction.”

“How can you tell? Even I can’t sense him.”

She held up the only device she yanked from the ship, “Simple, I commandeered the tracker before leaving.”

Anakin laughed at that, “Here I thought you only bothered with a comm device.”

“Why? That wouldn’t help up complete our mission. We must find Hoss and discover who his connections to the Separatist hierarchy are.”

“Yes,” Anakin’s jubilant turn froze as he gazed out over the mass of forest. His eyes narrowed, almost as if he could see Hoss clear over the miles upon miles of trees. “I’m going to end this.”

“ _We_ will end this,” Padmé interceded. “As the Council so instructed.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, already scrabbling to his back to begin the soaking wet climb down the waterfall. “I’ll let you help.”

“ _Let_ me…” Padmé snarled. She too flipped to grip onto the rocks, when she glanced up at Artoo left clinging to the precipice alone. “Do you need me to…?” She asked just as the droid fired up its rocket and began a quick but controlled descent down to the bottom. On the way past, it beeped at Anakin. The boy tried to swipe at the droid taunting him but missed, nearly sending him tumbling to his death.

But Anakin was quick, easily latching his fingers onto the tiny holds. Or was that the Force at work again keeping him alive at all costs?

“You’re one to talk, bolt bucket,” Anakin shouted at R2, causing Padmé to sigh.

“It’s going to be a long walk.”


	12. Glass

The air stank of moldy towels left to rot on the ground. Or perhaps that was simply the pressing atmosphere of a hundred diplomats trying to out prove the other. He tried to play nice, but even Obi-Wan’s easy nature was beginning to crack. While making a third pass across the alley behind the Queen’s dais, his head dipped low so she wouldn’t catch sight of him, he nearly ran face first into someone.

His hands lashed out fast, grabbing the younger man’s arm before he fell to the ground. It wasn’t Obi-Wan who apologized but the young man with tan skin and a distractingly memorable face. “So sorry, Sir. Didn’t see you there,” he gasped, trying to regather all of what he’d been carrying on a silver platter.

“What are you doing back here?” Kenobi asked. Far as he was told, this area should be cleared of all non-essentials until after the vote. Whenever they’d get around to it.

Eyes dark as space widened at the attention, the man swiping over his shaved head as if to try and cover himself. When the slightly bulbous nose flared to take in a steadying breath, he admitted, “Her Majesty requested sustenance.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan stepped back and sighed, “then I shall not keep you.”

As he rounded about towards the audience side, his eyes drifted from the humbled servant bowing to her Highness towards the woman herself. Amidala smiled, lifting a small cake from the platter to her painted lips. She hadn’t censured him after the misunderstanding of last night, but her eyes had certainly turned cold. That bothered him more than he expected, leaving Obi-Wan unable to meditate and forced to walk the winding halls alone with only his conflicting thoughts.

“Kenobi,” the comm in his ear lit up.

He touched it to answer, “Here.”

“Have you found anything?” Lan’vass asked, her tone cool as usual.

“No, seems to be all quiet down here.”

“The same is true up here as well.”

Turning his head, he caught the glint of her oiled hair brushing under a banner. She was moving through the upper balconies, most of which were emptied save a few of the non-voting diplomats who still were afforded a seat. Those were searched hardest of all, but none turned up. It was beginning to seem as if this entire mission was a farce. Perhaps even the gungan a plant to lure them away from the real target.

“I still say we should have put someone on the roof,” Obi-Wan commented, his eyes drifting skyward towards the multiple windows. Multiple entrance points. Multiple threats. They were a danger, but the Queen wouldn’t hear of retracting the dome for such an event.

“There is no concern there,” Lan’vass said, “They are laser proof. I inspected the building plans and checked the veracity myself.”

“As you say,” he wasn’t in the mood to start up another lively discussion. They didn’t argue, not Jedis who reached the rank of Master. But their discussions and debates could often become heated enough someone might wind up in the infirmary.

From the wafting podium stepped down the representative for the Separatists, the waddled man slipping to his seat. He’d made no mention of the Jedi in attendance, to the point he refused to even acknowledge them. The arguments all came from Naboo citizens, a wise strategy given the climate. Was he coached to anticipate the Republic sending them?

“I believe the Queen is about to give her speech,” Obi-Wan announced, his eyes trailing the line of handmaidens all bursting to business around her Majesty. It was odd to think the woman who appeared more of a gilded statue was that same girl he traded rations with in the back of a shop on Tattoine. To even imagine a woman that poised and primped laughing so deeply some erupted from her nose was impossible.

“Kenobi…”

He shook his head, realizing he’d fallen silent as Lan’vass called to him. Had she seen him watching the Queen brush off her lap? There was no concern, he’d…he’d followed his training at all times.

“Obi-Wan, you are staring rather intently,” she spoke.

“I am trying to keep track of her Majesty.” It was the truth, after all.

“In that dress, it cannot be difficult,” Lan’vass chuckled to herself, the woman of smooth lines and dark fabrics unimpressed with the fashions of Naboo royalty. “You were close with Queen Amidala during the troubles after her coronation?”

“It was… She is more formidable than she lets on. More resilient as well.”

The line in his ear fell silent. Perhaps Lan’vass was thinking of her own apprentice — the two bore much in common beyond the same round face and heartfelt eyes. Which was not something he should notice in either woman. Padmé would always be the child to him while Ballari…

“You have regrets,” Lan’vass spoke as if she was reading not his mind but his heart.

“It is a challenge, to place all of that away. To never think or wonder…” he tried to shake his complicated feelings away. To soothe his heart from the fickle flames with a cool dose of logic. It worked when he left her behind and never against contacted this planet. What was making it so difficult now?

“I wish,” Obi-Wan whispered to the ether, “I wish I could walk the steps so assuredly I’d never even stumble.”

Lan’vass sighed, “Seems to me, it is those who can stare temptation in the face and have the fortitude to turn away that fare much better than those who do not even see the temptation before them. If they are never tested, how will they know if they are strong enough to pass?”

“Sounds as if you speak from experience,” Obi-Wan tried to volley back her thoughts stripping him away. He hadn’t suffered so since Quigon.

Her steady voice, as certain as a metronome, cracked, “I do, and she was more lovely than all the sunrises in the galaxy.” The wistful nature snapped instantly as Lan’vass shifted, “Her Majesty is approaching to speak.”

“I’ll draw closer,” Obi-Wan began to shift through the throng but when Amidala reached her spot, every damn person in the audience stood. The gungan heads easily obscured her from his view, only a sliver of her extended hair and the wide hips of the dress visible. Obi-Wan tried to slide back and forth to keep eyes on her, but it was proving difficult.

“We have heard the debates, the arguments for both remaining,” she pointed to the Senator who nodded warmly, “and leaving.” To show no bias, she then pointed to the Separatist politician who folded his arms and tipped back in his chair. Did he know he’d already failed? “Naboo has long celebrated its perseverance, its autonomy from those that would try to drag us from our true future.”

Obi-Wan finally slipped around the enthused audience, his eyes narrowing at something off. The colors blossomed around the Queen, blues, greens, oranges, yellows all dancing against her white face. It was quite lovely, some of the hues almost piercing through her thick paint to the skin below. The effect seemed to be striking the others in the audience as well, Obi-Wan hearing a few gungans openly weeping at their ruler’s words or beauty.

It should be white.

He whipped his head over, his eyes darting from the focal point directed straight where the Queen stood. This room was designed so every colored window would strike with light forming a rainbow that became pure white. But it wasn’t.

“They took out a window!” Obi-Wan shouted to his earpiece.

“What?” Lan’vass called back.

Moving through the audience, he tried to ease up to the stage. His eyes darted from a steady head to the ceiling. He couldn’t look straight up or it’d give away that he figured it out. “One of the windows, it’s a hologram. They must have removed it so they could get a sniper in place!”

“Which one?” Lan’vass whispered to herself.

Both Jedi stared down at the kaleidoscopic rainbow, and at the same time agreed, “Red.” Lan’vass took over, “I’m on it.” From above he could hear complaints at the woman trodding quickly over toes, but Obi-Wan had a bigger problem.

The Queen parted her hands wide, nearing the end of her speech. This was it, their last chance. “I implore you to vote not only with your future in mind, but those of your children and grandchildren. We want Naboo to survive long after each of us is gone.”

The stage creaked below his feet, when he caught a white muzzle prodding through what appeared to be solid glass. Digging his foot in, Obi-Wan took off running. Some of the audience caught the Jedi, their polite claps breaking into gasps and confused whispers. With one eye on her Majesty, and the other upon the gun above, Obi-Wan unsheathed his lightsaber.

A blast ripped through the throne room, voices falling dead. Leaping off his feet, Obi-Wan spun forward, his arm locking and rebounding the laser shot back towards the heavens. It struck real glass, shades of blue raining down upon the now panicking diplomats, but he didn’t care about that.

Mid-air, Obi-Wan twisted his body in place and fell right on top of her Majesty. Together, the tumbled behind the podium, Obi-Wan trying to shield her head from another round. Those once laughing eyes were wide in fear, her face closer to him than it’d ever been before.

“What…?” she gasped, seemingly in shock that their dire warning proved to be accurate.

“Stay here,” Obi-Wan ordered, his arms waving to the flock of bodyguards now rushing to surround the Queen he knocked to the floor.He risked a glance up to the air to see the assassin shifting on his feet and rising into the sky. They were going to lose him!

As the bodyguards provided cover for her Majesty, he rose to his feet just in time to watch Lan’vass leap from the balcony. Her hand lashed out, one grabbing onto a rafter, while the other stabbed her lightsaber upward. More glass shattered, but it was the assassin’s jetpack that she aimed for.

It sliced the ends clean off, sending the assassin tumbling back through the windows. Diplomats shrieked, the sound of tinkling glass hidden behind a burst of a jet engine with smoke spewing from the back. The assassin tried to right it, but he was coming in for a crash landing directly into the ground. Perfect chance for the two Jedi to get him.

Obi-Wan swiped on his lightsaber, moving towards the impact point. Suddenly, the assassin yanked his arms out of the pack and fell the last few feet to his knee. The face-obscuring helmet looked up, eyeing down the Jedi with panicking politicians trapped between them. It tipped in surprise, almost laughing at this turn of events, and the assassin began to run.

“Lan…” he shouted just as the woman descended. Hordes of diplomats clogged the aisles. With a lift of her fingers, Lan’vass began to push them aside, Obi-Wan picking up the slack as they chased after the bounty hunter.

Dashing headlong into the open courtyard, he caught the dribble of blood trailing below a door’s threshold. “He’s gone to the left,” Obi-Wan announced, increasing his pursuit. Beside him, he felt Lan’vass turn away as if she had some other matter to handle.

“Where are you…?” he began before shelving the thought. Leaving behind the soothing fountain of the courtyard, Obi-Wan turned down a wooden hallway and found himself trapped in the hapless maze. Blood led him to the left, then right, his ears straining to pick up the labored breathing of an injured man.

“You cannot hope to escape, assassin,” Obi-Wan threatened. The blood dripped into a puddle right beside a left junction, denoting the assassin had to pause here. Lifting his lightsaber close to his body, Obi-Wan eased towards the wall then leapt out.

A dead end?

Nothing but four blank walls met him, no bleeding assassin, not even a hint of an access point recessed into the wood panels. Damn this place! He snarled, wafting his blade around as if that would deign him an answer when he heard a chuckle rounding through the wall.

He was getting away! Obi-Wan shoved on the area where the blood pooled, but nothing. That wall was reinforced in place. The others…

Another laugh erupted, much closer than before. On instinct, Obi-Wan jammed his lightsaber forward straight through the wooden wall. As it quickly burned away the edifice, he said, “I’ll pay for the damage later.”

A red-hot outline of a portal hissed in the wall. Kenobi flattened his hand, and — with the Force — shoved apart the sheetrock and splintered wood. As it all erupted forward, he stepped through his cheat of the maze, his head turning to find the fleeing assassin.

That seemed to surprise the man, a hand fishing out a blaster at his side. The assassin fired twice, Obi-Wan rebounding each one as he resumed the running. “You cannot hope to escape,” the Jedi warned him. “Surrender now and you will live.”

“Nice try, Jedi,” the man behind all the white and blue armor taunted. “But I know what happens to people who work against the Republic. And I know all the secrets of this place.”

He fired at Obi-Wan’s head, the Jedi bouncing that blaster shot into a portrait of a previous King. Then the assassin turned towards a wall, his palm out to do something. In the rising smoke of the burning walls, Obi-Wan couldn’t see what it was. Couldn’t hope to keep slicing his way through this maze before catching the bastard.

The assassin waved his hand to his helmet in a cocky salute and moved to slip through the narrow opening. Which was when a purple lightsaber nearly cleaved off his head. Lan’vass advanced through the gap as if she didn’t feel gravity. While the assassin dodged the first attack, he had no hope of the second.

Up close, she drew her blade clean through the armor’s gut, its violet ends hissing from the blood it burned to vapor. With one hand upon the assassin’s shoulder, Lan’vass shoved the dying man to the floor, her lightsaber falling silent.

“Nice work,” Obi-Wan said, receiving a curt nod. Then he glanced down at the man piled at their feet, “Who are you?”

Even with blood gurgling out of the hole in his intestines, all the assassin could do was laugh, “You think I’d tell you?”

“That is Mandalorian armor,” Lan’vass pronounced, her hands stilled as she stared down at the man.

“Mandalorian?” Obi-Wan whipped his head over in surprise to the fellow alien beside him. “I thought you were pacifists.”

“Not all. This belongs to the house of Fett, a very old family.” Bending over, she disengaged the helmet and lifted it clean off the dying man’s head. The face struck Obi-Wan instantly, the same shark-like eyes, a duplicate of the bulbous nose. But the hair was longer, and a scar ran down the cheek that hadn’t been there.

Coughing up blood, the assassin Fett tried to slink away. His elbows dug into the floor, but his body was too weak to find purchase. With a plop he landed on his back. “Who do you work for?” Lan’vass began.

“You Jedi,” he spat, trying to strike the Jedi who took him down, but only a stream of bloody bubbles dribbled off his chin.

“Your assassination attempt has failed,” Obi-Wan said. They should have taken him in alive and trussed up before both the Republic Senate and Naboo’s elite to prove how dirty the Separatists played. But his corpse would suffice. They were all in the same room, watched the same attack. It would be enough.

Obi-Wan expected the man to groan, fall silent, but his chest undulated, his lips raised in a smirk, and those dark matter eyes burned into the Jedi’s soul. “Has it?”

Twins. Duplicates. He hadn’t been in two places at once, but was two people. “The servant!” Obi-Wan shouted, twisting away from Lan’vass and the dying man. He ran back through the damage he caused, his fellow Jedi asking where he was going. But there wasn’t time.

If he was fast enough, if he…

His steps slowed upon his return to the throne room, most of the delegates having leapt to one side or the other. Clustered amongst a ring of bodyguards stood her Majesty. She raised her head to stare into Obi-Wan’s eye, clearly wondering if he’d apprehended the villain, when her body pitched forward.

“My Queen,” the bodyguards all reached out, a dozen hands racing to catch their falling monarch.

They were too late. Shoving over the broken benches, Obi-Wan tried to run to her side. “She’s not breathing,” someone reported, his ears falling silent. In the stillness he watched the Queen’s eyes roll back into her skull, her fingers turn ice blue and her heart still to nothing.

“She’s been poisoned!” Obi-Wan shouted, shoving through the fear constricting around him. “Call a medic, now!” He kept trying to dig through the bodyguards, the horde forming a protective barrier around the small woman crumpling under her own crown.

“Ballari,” Obi-Wan whispered when a hand landed on his shoulder. He whipped around, his fingers fishing for the lightsaber, when he met Lan’vass’ worried gaze.

“Who…?”

“A servant, with the same face as the assassin,” he pronounced.

His fellow Jedi seemed surprised by such a fact, but nodded her head, “He will be attempting to escape in a ship.”

“They’ll be scrambling all the ports, locking them down.”

“That takes time. Time for the second assassin to slip our grasp,” Lan’vass said in a such cold tone it felt it belonged on a game field rather than while a Queen lay dying upon her throne room floor.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to the woman convulsing on the floor. People were crying, begging for anyone to save her. Glares of incompetence swarmed around the Jedi who let this happen. Their priority was saving the Queen, they could…

“Obi-Wan,” Lan’vass squeezed into his shoulder, reminding him where his duty lay.

“We can borrow a speeder off of the landing pad,” he pronounced, his sight only upon the other Jedi. The cacophony around them faded, Obi-Wan’s steps assured as he and Lan’vass walked away from the country panicking about their dying monarch.

“She may yet survive,” Lan’vass pronounced before they stepped through the doors. Obi-Wan chose to not hear her words, nor let them touch his heart. He had far graver matters to settle now.


End file.
